Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven
by Bekah26
Summary: In a world built on science, what happens when its discovered that fantasy is far closer to reality then anyone's ever dreamed. Crossing CSI's New York, Miami, Vegas, and Navy NCIS.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven

Author: Bekah26

Rating: PG but will go up.

Paring: none at the moment but may change later.

Disclaimer: No infringement of copyright intended. All characters originated with CSI: NY, and are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis. I am receiving no payment for their use. They do not belong to me.

Content Warning: .CSI NY/ CSI Miami crossover with Fantasy AU elements.

Summary: After the apparent death of one of their own, both teams discover that the world they live in is more varied then they had known, and that certain secrets have prices all must pay.

* * *

Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven 

Prologue:

Body leaning against the glass window before him, the figure watched his coworkers for what he knew may be the final time.He felt peace in this moment and knew that whatever was to come, he had done his best, loved and been loved, and had affected the changes he had needed to. There were regrets but he had to reconcile himself to them; he could not alter what had to be, and knew what happened to those who tried.

He had felt it for awhile, the wind shifting, bringing warning with it. It was surprising at first, and unexpected, and the sudden intrusion into his settled life had shaken him so that even his friends-no, family-had noticed the changes in his demeanor. They cared, oh so much, and he longed to tell them everything but decades of fear had instilled a doubt in his core; would they still love him after, if he told them the truth, if he stripped away the layers and revealed everything?

He wanted to believe that they still would. But the doubt forever blocked his tongue.

This was his home, his world, but it would all end soon. Indeed, he should have moved on months ago, or at least sent warning to his kin in New York; but he had done nothing. He knew that his family there was even more settled and he couldn't bring himself to disturb them. Were something to happen he knew that they would get warning, but maybe too late, and he owed them more than that. Yet he also owed these people so much as well. But he knew his family here would never just let him go, no matter what happened, and so he couldn't just vanish.

He would have to die instead.

He would cut his ties and leave, had to, and head to New York with the warning, hoping that his kin would heed it as well and follow him. That was the part he was unsure of, the stubborn nature of that one, who was willing to fight and lay it all down for those under their protection. He sighed. They may be blood kin but were different as night and day; he was too used to running, afraid of what he'd lose, afraid to face the what if's.

He was out of choices.

Stepping away and packing up his most loved belongings-not too many, can't act suspicious- he looked out a last time, memorizing faces and bodies, hoping to lock the memories inside forever.

A mother in a dear friend, something he had never had, and had treasured more than any precious stone.

A brother in arms, comrade, and so close a friend he knew that his death would terribly scar. But there was no choice.

A sister of cold steel but molten warmth, a woman of the soul, and he prayed she would be the team's center when he was gone.

And a man of fire and ice, a mentor and father and friend, his other half; the thought of what would lost between them almost made him shy away from his plan, yet, he could bear to see the look of betrayal on Horatio's face when he found out the truth.

No choice.

And they suspected nothing, wishing him well on his vacation, Eric teasing him about any romantic interludes he might have and demanding all information upon his return. Calleigh, who gave him a quick hug on her way off, and Alexx who gave him a longer one and then made him promise to come to dinner soon. And then H, giving him that little smile that said "I'll miss you, be safe, and have fun. But not too much fun."

He ached with missing them already.

Climbing onto his bike he gave the lab one last look, one last look at his existence and fully realized the pain of being human, for to be human was to regret. And he had so many regrets he was breaking apart inside. But he could not rest yet and he had work to do, events to set in motion, and repercussions waiting to unfold.

As the sun set danger was in the air, riding swiftly on the waves that crashed onto the shores of Miami and for one of the last times Timothy Speedle rode through the city, the ancient words of warning following him like a shadow.

The Hunt has returned.

* * *

okay, I'm allowing my crazy writer's mind to do this one, so I'm going to go all out. And I may have bitten off more then I can chew.There will be strangeness ahead, but its all in fun.  
For me anyway. 


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven

Author: Bekah26

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: none

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, wish I could, but I don't.

Content Warning: CSI NY/ CSI Miami fantasy AU cross

* * *

Chapter 1

Danny, Aiden Burn decided, had been jumpy all day. And not just jumpy, he acted paranoid, skittish, and kept an eye on his surroundings at all times. She finally had enough of it and told him so at lunch, in her own delicate way.

"Snap outta it, Messer!" She slapped the back of his head. "I'm all for vigilance but you're driving me crazy!"

He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry Aid. It's just, I've got this feeling, ya know?" And then he looked around again.

"DANNY! Enough! So you got this feeling, ok? Just talk it out with me. What brought this on, girlfriend's husband catch on?" She smirked and sipped her cola. Danny grinned back.

"Naw, you should now me well enough to know that I don't get caught." But then his expression leaked towards serious. "But honestly, I don't know, its like that early warning you get when approaching a perp, ya know? That tingle that says it could go one-way or the other? That's what its like."

Aiden's frown matched Danny's. "And you don't know why?"

Danny shook his head.

Aiden watched him for a minute, studying the look on her friend's face. The tension she expected, they were in the middle of an open case after all, but there was a shadow hovering over his expression that seemed out of place, making his normally sparkling eyes seem haunted in the lab's lighting. Finishing her sandwich she slammed her palms on the table-which had the added bonus of startling Danny out of his thoughts-and stood.

"Here's what we're gonna do. We go back to work and you keep your head in the game, Messer." Danny frowned and looked about to protest about his current state of mind. Aiden raised a finger to stop him. "And then we go out tonight and forget about, maybe head to Sullivan's, maybe to a club so you can hook up, ease your tension. THAT is what's gonna happen, got it?"

He looked at her and then a smile crept out. "You taken' lessons from Stella?"

She grinned and winked at him. "Of course! How else do you think she keeps Mac in line?"

They linked arms as they walked out of the break room, grinning at each other, mood forgotten.

"Leather cuffs."

Easier said then done, Danny sighed and rubbed his nose, lifting his glasses off his face. He had lived too long to know when not to ignore that little sixth sense and it was screaming at him now. But for what reason he couldn't figure out; there was no one he had pissed off (not even Mac), and the case had closed with no problem. So, he worried, what was it? He was still wondering about when he wandered into the locker room and was just grabbing his stuff when Mac enter, looking solemn.

"Danny," He said and then Danny knew.

"Yeah Mac?" The words were a hoarse croak; he hadn't survived three years under this man and hadn't learned to read his body language.

"I just got word from Miami, Danny. Officer Timothy Speedle is dead."

"What?" Danny gasped, hands digging into the metal of his locker painfully, the edge biting into his palm; he didn't feel it.

"He was killed in the line of duty. I'm sorry, I know that you had formed a friendship during the case that brought Caine to New York. I just, thought that it would be better to hear it from me then in rumors."

Danny's eyes snapped open. "Why? Why would there be rumors, Mac? How did he die?"

"In an investigation his weapon proved faulty, and he was shot at the scene. At first they believed his gun was dirty, but their ballistics found that the firing pin malfunctioned."

No, Danny thought, it wasn't possible. He knew Speed, knew that while neither of them liked guns-hell, Danny preferred to foot it after suspects rather then draw- they both knew that keeping their partners safe was paramount; therefore, they cleaned their guns. But, for this to have happened...His eyes widened. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't a tragedy. Deliberate, but, deliberate by who? And why? Speed lived a quiet life, one Danny had unmercifully teased him about, so who would have targeted him in this way and why? Out of all of them Speed was the most gentle, caring-

Lord.

"Danny? Danny!"

"What?!" He twisted his hand towards Mac, teeth clenched as realization flooded thorough him. Mac was staring at his hand where it had grabbed hold of the locker's edge deep enough to bleed.

"Fuck." Danny pulled it close, closing his body language down, curling in on himself. He couldn't do this, couldn't be here right now, not when it was so close, not when he knew what Speed had done but not why.

"Danny let me see," Mac demanded as he closed in, but Danny was used to this, to being of the defense, and sidled away with ease.

"Its nothing Mac, just a cut. My shifts over and I'm going home; let Aiden know that plans are cancelled, yeah? See ya tomorrow."

And he was gone, making his escape with practiced ease, fueled with the desire to get out.

He never knew how he got home just that he was there, in his comfort zone, with no comfort in sight. His heart was bursting out of his chest, painfully beating against his ribs like it wanted to escape, and really, Danny couldn't blame it.

"What the hell happened Tim, that made you do this?"

It was a painful exclamation, shouted rage and pain without outlet, and the words fell down upon him like whip lashes.

"Why didn't you call me?" Danny whispered as the sobs overtook him where he had crumpled to the floor, fetal position, alone and desolate.

From the corner of his mind he took notice that someone was banging on his door, pounding on it like their life depended on it but he couldn't move. The pounding continued until he did move, had to move, anything to shut it up. His hands fumbled on the latch and close as he was to it now, each hit made his head swell and explode.

"Stop intruding on my breakdown you asshole!" Danny snarled, wrenching the door back with violence he usually kept contained. All action froze when he was faced with the dark-haired woman on the other side, hair askew, clothes and skin covered with dirt, and hand raised as if to pound again. Blue eyes met brown as they stared at each other, frozen in the tableau before them, until the woman calmly lowered her arm and rested her body against the doorframe.

"Is that anyway to talk to your baby sister?"

One corner of her mouth curled up wearily, her body slowly making its way towards the floor, until finally falling as its owner lost consciousness just as Danny lunged forward.

"_Speed_!"


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven Interlude

Author: Bekah26

Rating: PG

Pairing: none

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, wish I could, but I don't.

Content Warning: CSI NY/ CSI Miami fantasy AU cross

I have another one shot, **The Right Thing**, that can be found under CSI NY and this is an interlude that takes place maybe between or during the second chapter.

* * *

Interlude 

"You could have warned me."

"I thought that was what this was."

_They were the Old Ones, the ancient protectors of a sacred land.  
In the beginning they were as one, each an extension of the other, forming a whole.  
Fire that shapes, wind that binds, water that heals, and earth that creates.  
They were the guardians and the legacy of their people lives on throughout age.  
Then the Hunt came._

"Why didn't you just tell them the truth?"

"I couldn't bear the thought of seeing the betrayal on their faces... Besides, you haven't revealed yourself to them, either."

_Being driven from their own land wasn't enough; the Hunt pursued the people for their powers and abilities, raped them of their heritage, leaving husks in their wake.  
The four banded together to seal the Hunt from the mortal world, locking them away until judgment.  
But in the process they themselves were trapped, locked in the mortal world, limited in ability and form._

"It's not the same thing."

"In what way?"

"They already look at me with betrayal in their eyes."

_Unable to bear the site of tragedy the fled their homeland and went out into the world, immersing themselves in the land of man, taking on lives and identities.  
For centuries they exist in this manner, as each lifetime comes to an end they shift, and take on another, ever searching and hoping for a way to return home.  
Until, the impossible happened._

"I thought I was doing what was best for everyone. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Besides, it's not like I can really go to Miami and tell them that I have their deceased teammate sleeping on my couch."

"The newly dead doesn't rate having the bed?"

"Unlike you, I still have a job to go to tomorrow."

_Over the time they spent among humans they changed._  
_Their race was never meant to adapt, to change.  
What were once merely beings of soul slowly became beings with soul.  
For each new life that they lived more of their old faded away.  
In adopting human form they adopted humanity, and all things that came with it, both good and evil; for as they waned in their eternity, the seal waned._

"So what happens now?"

"We wait."

"And if the Hunt truly is coming?"

"We band together one last time."

"You're going to warn the others tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

_And the Hunt was freed._

"...I don't want to go back. This is home now."

"Then we'll fight to keep it."

"Thank you."

_And battle would be waged once more._

"What?"

"You worry too much."

"Well excuse me, It's been a long day."

"Speed, you're such a girl."

"Shuddup..."

"...Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"...I want the bed."

* * *

Okay, this will either confuse the heck out of everyone or clear things up. Hopefully a bit of both.I'm trying for a mythic legend thing, but as this is my first large piece, I could be overreaching.  
But I just can't help where my crazy brain goes. I wanna write what no one else DARES to. 

Cause its fun.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: **Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven**

Disclaimer: Not mine, well the idea is but not the characters or genres; I'm just playing in their pool.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Foot tapping against the rail in an uneven rhythm, she stared out at the New York evening, and although she enjoyed the play of colored lights in the darkness her thoughts were with the sun. She had often wondered that, with the span of their existence, why the memories of each new life never faded for her race. They stayed, pristine, and burned into them, echoes of what was lost, steps that could never be retraced. Her hands flexed on her arms, longing to trace the scars that no longer showed.

One more past discarded.

Looking over her shoulder she watched Danny as he slept, a lump of grumpy discontentment on the couch. He hadn't agreed with her decision; oh, he never said as much but they were kin, and she knew what he thought. Danny had believed that her friends should know the truth; that they wouldn't turn on her, which was a turn-around for her scarred sibling. Danny knew too well the harsh reality of trusting a human who didn't deserve it, and her gaze traced over the burned tattoo visible on his shoulder; yet Danny advocated finding a way to let them know, reminding her that yes, he had met Horatio Caine and had deemed him worthy.

That, she never doubted. It was just she couldn't bear to put them danger, wouldn't risk them, and cursed herself a coward again. She couldn't go back now, after the funeral, it would be too much.

No matter what, she had already lost them.

Earlier Danny had stripped her of the suit, Timothy Speedle's funeral suit, and shoved her under the hot shower spray, letting the water wash the grave away. When Danny had studied her form and asked why female, she had reminded her kin that they didn't always get to choose what form they wore, and Danny had let it drop. What she hadn't told him was that she hadn't been able to control the change, had shifted without knowledge, which was unheard of for their kind. As she had looked in the mirror she had frozen, finding traces of Tim in the face, but focused on the creature that stared back. It had been too long, since she had worn her original face, that she hadn't recognized it and often, it was too dangerous to wear it. Now, without consent, she had no choice. But if the seal had degraded enough that they had broken through, if the Hunt was close enough for her to feel them, if Danny couldn't rouse the others enough to stop them...too many if's. And from what she could see too many passages, too many paths, and no clear answer. No safety left.

And with grave certainty she knew what that meant.

* * *

Head resting on his arms, Danny covertly watched the female form move softly around his apartment and worried. He knew there were things that Speed hadn't told him, and wouldn't tell him, but had let slip with a flick of a glance or tightening of a jaw. Despite a history of running, Speed wasn't a coward. So, to force him from his home and family (oh, they may be kin but they hadn't been close enough to be family for centuries), Speed would have to been terrified.

And Danny knew his kin well enough that it wasn't for herself.

Her. Danny snorted, disguising it as a cough. There were too many bad memories associated with being a woman for Speed that he would never have shifted to that form without a choice. And she would never choose a face that so many of their kind would recognize. Not to mention the Hunt. Wearing that form was like a beacon to them and Danny knew that there was no way that Speed could avoid becoming a target. But then, if the Hunt would follow her path to New York, how long before he himself became one as well?

Their kind did seem to attract trouble.

Casting a glance at the window Danny saw his real face staring back, knowing that anyone looking closely at it would be able to see, but knowing that no one ever really had. Perhaps he was the wrong one Speed had gone to; their other kin had gone and formed surrogate families, close friends, with the only real secret kept from them the truth about their heritage. Like Speed he knew that they had buried their true shapes, adopting their mortal lives with gusto, and were content, if not truly happy.

Danny had never done so, keeping his other shape barely glossed away, waiting in reserve for a quick transformation and escape. He hadn't and would never willingly reveal himself to his co-workers, and he knew it vexed them to have to pry any personal information out with interrogation tactics. And though he did love them, Mac, Stella, Aiden, Flack, and even Hawkes, he would rather permanently die then give that part over to them.

He had learned that lesson with Tanglewood.

His fingers still itched to shed Sonny's blood.

Which was a fact that he knew his friends would never understand; the rules, the fundamental way they were made up, separated Danny and Speed's race from that of the human race. Secrecy and protection was paramount. Vengeance, and blood vengeance in particular, was expected if one hurt kith and kin; in fact, for the Sassone's particular crimes, the entire family line should have been slaughtered.

Mac could never understand the justice Danny had crafted with, which was perfect for his world of man, but caused a friction between them that Mac didn't quite understand and Danny would never explain. Danny knew Mac blamed it on Danny following his instinct. And in that, Mac was right.

But Danny would never tell him so.

He had called and left messages with his kin but knew that they would most likely stay out of it until the worst, having their own cities and families to secure, before even contemplating coming to New York. Like a final bastion, joining them in the city would be a last resort. Danny didn't blame them; it would be better to keep them all separate targets, anyway. The more they gathered, the more power they would attract, which was why they had originally split in the first place. For them, safety was not in numbers. Though, Danny glanced at his bedroom where Speed had finally settled, it was nice to have someone watching his back.

Speed may have thought he was doing the right thing in separating himself before the storm hit, but Danny knew that without them his kin would fall, having to reason to want to survive. Speed wasn't a fighter like the rest of them, and with nothing to fight for, she was already dead.

So, Danny decided as he stood and moved to the phone, he would break the rules just this once. And hope that Speed didn't kill him for it.

Ring

Ring

"Caine."

"Hey, this is Danny Messer from New York. I'm not sure you remember me."

"Yes, I do Danny. How are you?"

"Better then you, I hear. Look, I think that you need to grab your team and come down here, or, I'll try to bring it up, but either way-"

"Danny, what are you talking about?"

"Horatio, I have something here that belongs to you. And I'm giving it back."

* * *

Ooh, I am trying to get the right mixture of drama, angst, and action going; so in the next couple of chapters I'll try to get the party started.

But y'all let me know if you want the other two characters brought in, or save them for later, or do one shots of them.

Feedback with be welcomed with pancakes!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine, not at all, don't own em and never will.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

He hadn't expected it to be like this.

Ryan may have been new to the team but he could tell that something was off, and that it had started with the phone call that Horatio had received. It had come while they were at a scene, and both he and Alexx had seen him pick up and then watched as he froze, speaking sharply to the person on the other end, who apparently gave as good as he got, and Ryan and Alexx stared when they clearly overheard the name Timothy Speedle. Finally, when Horatio had pulled the phone away from his ear when the voice got even more strident, they could all hear: "You're a cop! Just check out the location of his fuckin' bike! Hell, just the fucking grave if you want too!"

Which was when they heard a female voice call out, "DANNY!" and the line cut out, the static unnaturally loud as Horatio stared at the phone and he and Alexx stared at Horatio.

"Horatio?" Alexx asked, her voice wavering. "What was that?"

Brows lowered, the red-head started as his phone as it continued to beep, he hand shaking as he pressed the off button. He cleared his throat, and then cleared it again.

"Normally I'd say it was a prank, playing on the distress of the department after they had lost one of their own. But," He cleared it again. "But I know the caller and he wouldn't do that."

"What does this have to do with my baby?" Alex demanded. She locked eyes with Horatio and they stared at each other, Ryan shifted from one foot to the other, until finally Horatio pursed his lips and turned his way.

"You're done collecting?"

Ryan nodded, caught up in the rising tension around them; like the electricity before a storm his skin tingled with, and with that sense memory he realized something, but cleared his face before any of his thoughts showed. He followed behind Alexx as they left the house, walking behind Horatio who was on the phone to Eric and then Calleigh, asking that they meet him back at the lab and that it was important but hey had a stop to make first.

When he had been offered the position on Miami Dade he had mixed feelings; this was, after all, his life goal. He was born to be a protector, follow and lead as the situation presented, to work justice for the innocents. But his transfer to CSI, coming on the heels of Speedle's death, seemed wrong; like it was rushed, a vacancy filled, and that it shouldn't have happened that way. He often found his steps tracing themselves to His locker, left untouched, as the wound was too raw for the others. He would find his fingers tracing the name, the edges, and feel that pulse of wrong; Tim should be here. He would walk by trace and again feel the echo of Tim's presence, could swear that he could make out the man's scent, and his heart would break. He didn't understand it, didn't know why the image of this dead man pulled him so, but it did. He couldn't speak of it to anyone, and then, what would he say? That on some level Timothy Speedle had never left?

That he knew that Timothy Speedle was still alive?

"Why are we here?"

Ryan flinched at the strident tones of Alexx's voice as they carried across the cemetery. This was a place of rest, and peace, and her pain bit sharply at the air. The two of them hurried after Horatio as he made his way with determined steps down the path, heading to a grave that Ryan knew would be well tended and laded with flowers still fresh, as it had only been a week since-he collided had with Horatio's frozen back and heard the loud gasp Alexx made as she too stumbled to a halt.

The gravesite was a mess.

The headstone lay flipped, the flowers tossed aside as if they had been ravaged by a storm, the turned looked as if it had been churned. As they closed in Ryan noticed the damage to the other graves in the vicinity. A nearby tree's branches looked weathered, broken, and the leaves were shredded. The other headstones weren't as damaged but small spec of soil clung to them, like blood splatter he noticed, but only in the same general area. If Ryan had to guess, the origin point would have been the most heavily damaged grave.

Which was Speedle's.

"Sons of bitches," Alexx cursed, uncaring of the tears on her face. "Why would they do this?"

Horatio was staring down, face blank. "I don't think it was vandals, Alexx."

Ryan stepped closer as well, offering silent support to Alexx, and kneeled down to study the grave more closely. "He's right. The earth here is fresh, but rich in scent. This isn't top soil; this came from beneath."

"So, what? Someone dug him up?!"

"No." Horatio kneeled as well, pulling his glasses off so that the pain and uncertainty in his eyes was visible. "I think, that if we dug, we would find the coffin still there." He paused, and took a breath. "But no body."

When he was young he had been taught the old legends of his people.

Like any child he had believed them to be what they seemed to be, mere fairytales of mythic places and battles, created for entertainment.

A few years later he discovered the truth as he had watched his nana call on the woods for help when a dead tree had been felled wrong, crushing the leg of his grandfather. He had been in his early teens, on the cusp of disbelieving, when the crushing log slowly peeled itself, decomposing at an alarming rate, effectively removing the weight away and freeing his grandfather. What questions he would have asked were stalled as his nana raised her hand, silencing him. She had sung to the woods in a language he didn't know, but knew that she was thanking them, and as they made their way home he had been told everything.

He was in the latest line of those who could speak with Words, and he had a duty, if he so chooses.

He chooses.

"Horatio, what the hell's going on?!"

They were back at the lab now, after Horatio had recovered quickly and herded them away from the grave and back to the lab, where a swearing Eric and a distressed Calleigh were already waiting in the office. After locking the door and shutting the blinds, Horatio had turned to them and merely said: "Well?"

Eric ran his hands through his hair, for the fifth time. Ryan was counting.

"You were right. His bike is gone. How the hell did someone steal it from the impound?!" Eric demanded, finally slumping into one of the vacant chairs, with Alexx huddled in the other, clutching a coffee in her hands.

Horatio sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Calleigh?"

Pulling herself together, she clasped her hands before her. "When you asked if anything was missing I went through his belongings again, because, it struck a cord; some of Speed's items are missing. So I looked in his locker and the lab, even the fridge, and its not that noticeable unless you know him...knew him." She took a gasping breath and a sip of the coffee Alexx offered. "So I double checked the evidence, the gun. It shouldn't, no, it couldn't have malfunctioned."

"What?" This from Eric, who looked as if he was about to pass out, and really, Ryan didn't think any of the others looked much better.

"We checked it, right?" Calleigh demanded, tears now in her eyes. "You saw it too, Horatio! The pin was damaged, it couldn't have fired, but when I looked just now the gun is fine. It's clean; it's in perfect condition. It should have worked."

"It is the same gun, right?"

Calleigh nodded. "Yes, same serial, even same groove marks; I even checked the photos. And no one has touched the evidence, save me."

Silence.

"What's going on?" It was Calliegh who voiced it, but they looked to Horatio, who had his head in his hands.

"At the this morning a had a call, from New York, and the caller told me that they had something that belonged to me. To us, really." He looked off into the distance, eyes unfocused.

"And this is what," Eric demanded hotly. "A kidnapping? Ransom?"

Horatio shook his head. "No Eric. It was more like assurance, like letting the worried parent know where their child is, and that they're safe."

"Oh Lord," Alexx gasped.

"Then why the angry words?" Ryan spoke up for the first time, eyes watching his boss's.

"I couldn't, wouldn't, believe it. Until I had to."

Ryan let the hint of a smile show. "Until you had to look at the evidence."

"Yes," Horatio agreed. "The damage at the grave, that wasn't vandalism, that wasn't by chance. The evidence says that someone extracted Speed, or at least his body, from the cemetery. It also says," with a nod to Calleigh and Eric, "that Speed knew he would leave and gathered his most precious stuff and that, if they weapon can be trusted, there was no reason for him not to fire. No reason that he would have been in a position to die unless..." He trailed off.

"He wanted to leave us." Eric's voice was bitter, but it clearly said what the others wanted to say.

Ryan shifted, not knowing the whole story, but knowing he had to say something; the problem was knowing how much to let them know.

"You don't know that," He told them, reading the agony in their eyes, the thought that they had driven their friend-their family-away. "You can't make that judgment; you don't have all the evidence." He looked at Horatio again. "Call this person back in New York, say you're ready to believe them, ask to talk to Speed if he's able."

Horatio's eyes glinted with thanks as he picked up the phone, and Ryan let out an unconscious breath. Calleigh had sunk into the seat next to Eric and Alexx reached up to grip his arm.

"Ryan, thank you."

He smiled back at her but stiffened, as they all did, when they heard Horatio curse.

"There's no answer."

Unease now filled Ryan, and he knew that something was wrong. "Disconnected or just not answering?"

Horatio opened his mouth to respond when the phone rang. The other relaxed again but Ryan found his hands clenching. He watched Horatio answer, watched his face crease with confusion, and then alarm.

"I think that there's more going on then you, and even I, know. Mac, I'm coming down and I'm bringing my team with me. What I know, what I think I know, is too important to say over the phone. We'll catch the next flight out." He hung up and looked at his team; Calleigh now visually alarmed, Eric gripping the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white, Alexx already out of her seat and almost to the door, and Ryan, watching him as if he already expected the worse.

"That was Mac Taylor from the NYPD. Apparently Danny Messer's home had been broken into, the door splintered, and the inside looks as if there had been a war. Blood has been found. The reason he called me was that in the parking garage was a yellow motorcycle with Miami plates." He raised his head, eyes burning until he stood and his them behind tinted lenses.

"It was registered to Timothy Speedle, Miami Dade Police."

He hadn't expected it to be like this.

He hadn't expected to find a purpose in Miami, hadn't expected to feel indebted to a team he barely knew. Hadn't expected to find what he's been searching for in the form of a deceased co-worker.

Ryan Wolfe hadn't expected to be destined to stand at the side of one Timothy Speedle.

And certainly hadn't expected to complete the circle.

He only hoped that he would be able to help.

* * *

Oh wow, this is a biggie!

Due to some reviewers, well one at least, I'll try to kick start the action; but it felt wrong to just jump into it without the background or the drama.

I hope y'all stay interested, but even if you don't, I'll still write.

I write for pleasure not profit.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven

Author: Bekah 26

Rating: Teen, as Danny's mouth just keep s getting worse.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no way, no ownership and no money.

Content Warning: so far only Miami/New York, though soon Vegas and DC will be entering the game. This is a fantasy AU. Tread softly.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_She stood in front of a wall, fingers tracing the carved figures before her, running over the lines with reverence. The images told a story, a story she knew was important, but she couldn't remember what it was about. Figures in battle, fighting, falling, and she heard the echoes of their battle cries. Falling to her knees she tried to block out the cries but couldn't, and started to weep at their pain. The stone beneath her hands faded, became soft, and her hands dug into the soil. Breathing in the scent of fresh earth she stood, barefoot before the hill and stood in the land of her past, a place she hadn't been since before time was new. She followed the sounds of battle, feet moving swift as the deer on the grass, and raced to aid in the struggle. Faster then air she moved, and claimed the name Speed as her own. Her kin had need of her._

_But there was warning on the air and danger before her. As quickly as she was moving the shadows followed, and now they were upon her. She reached for her weapon but it was gone, where was it, she needed it, there was danger and she had to protect-_

"DANNY!"

The windows of the exploded inward and took shape.

Danny was an athlete and moved like one, instinctively responding to his kin's warning. Using what was at hand, the phone, he threw it with all the speed and skill of his baseball days and twisted to the side, ducking behind the couch and dodging the first attack. The phone struck the glass-made creature in the head, breaking it apart, only to have the pieces reshape. Bent double, it looked like a misshapen dog, and growled before it launched itself at him again.

Claws of glass tore through his cushions like tissue paper, foam flying in the air like snow, but Danny was ready this time; he had grabbed the bat he had kept from his playing days and blocked the next swipe.

Each blow the beast made tore up the material of the bat and the rough edges on its arms made cuts on Danny's hands and arms. The smell of his blood seemed to excite it more and it attacked with renewed fury.

"No!"

Speed entered the room with a cry and raised her hand, throwing the creature away from Danny and into the door, the crack echoing in the apartment as once again the glass broke and began to reform. It's claws dug into the floor as it struggled to stand, as it's upper torso shaped first.

Speed turned fear-filled eyes to Danny. "Wraith." She croaked, her body trembling.

"Fuck!" Danny grimaced, flicking his fingers and watching the blood fly. They had little time before it reformed, and probably less time until someone called the cops, and Danny so didn't want to explain this to his neighbors or Mac.

Speed grabbed her bag and frantically began shoving her stuff inside, knocking over whatever furniture that hadn't already been ruined. Danny placed a hand on the wall as he struggled to stand.

There was a loud growl and they both turned to see the creature rear up once again, re-shaped. It turned to them and roared.

"No fuckin' way!" Danny cried out and used the last of his adrenaline to raise both hands, palms out.

Flame erupted around him in a deadly flash. The blast of heat fused the pieces of glass and wood together as the concussive force threw the beast through the apartment door.

The flames vanished as Danny fell to his knees, clutching at his arm as blood began to seep through his fingers, and when Speed rushed forward to peel them back she saw the blackened marks of his tattoo, the edges smeared with sluggishly moving blood.

"Danny, what the hell!"

"Later," He gasped. "Can you feel? Is it gone?"

Speed looked at the blackened form on the carpet in the hall. "Yeah, not even a wraith spirit could survive that. But Danny, what is this? Why is it bleeding?" She wiped a hand through the blood to clearly see the mark. "It's a bind. What the hell happened?! How did you get bound?"

"Later!" Danny growled as he pulled himself up again and grabbed his jacket, peeking out into the hall. "Now we get outta here and to a safe place." He turned and saw Speed staring at him, realized horror growing on her face.

"You couldn't feel it, could you?" She whispered. "If I hadn't been here you would have had no warning. You would be dead!"

Danny was torn, knowing they had to get out but not willing to leave while his kin was in such a state. He moved towards her quickly and grabbed her, pulling both of them into the bedroom.

"Speed, there's no time. I promise, later, when we're safe." He stuck his head out of the broken window, knowing that they could get out that way if they were careful. "Please, just let it go for now. I need you at your best because," He took a breath and held out a hand to her, letting her see the truth in his eyes. "Because I'm not."

Speed nodded.

Within seconds, with him leaning his tired body on hers, the wind carried the two of them towards Central Park, the howling sirens music beneath their feet.

* * *

Aiden gripped Flack's arm painfully tight, staring with disbelief at Danny's ravage apartment. She heard his almost silent "Shit!" and knew he was a shocked and disturbed as she was. Where they stood in the hall, to the left of the apartment, they knew that they were standing in the remains of Danny's door.

Looking down they calculated that the jagged pieces made up about half, had no idea where the glass came from, and looked over to where Mac and Stella stood to the right and knew that they had the other half. Mac's normally expressionless face was slipping into visible fear and Stella had one hand to her mouth in horror. As one both teams converged on the doorway and looked in at the massacre before them.

No windows remained, all the glass was lying in small scatterings around the rooms and kitchen, and the air stunk of char. With a shaking hand Aiden reached down and picked up Danny's bat and turned to the others, showing off the deeply scored wood and bloodstains that covered it. Stella kneeled and after her photos picked up a sliver of wood, noting the burn marks.

"I think this is part of the doorframe," She said, relieved her voice didn't reveal how shaky she felt. The apartment wasn't just ruined; it was destroyed.

"Looks like a bomb went off," Flack said as he too kneeled and looked at the wood chips.

"But where's the damage?" Mac pointed out. "The detonation point is localized in one direction, outward towards the door. Explosions usually move in an outward circular motion; this doesn't make sense."

"I know," Stella stood, pursing her lips. "The wood is burned. The glass is melted. But the carpet isn't. Scientifically, the whole setup is skewed."

"And the glass," Aiden chimed in as she moved from the bedroom back to the living room. "There are fragments around each of the windows and they were broken inward. The shards are tiny. So how did they move from what looks like every window, leaving little to no trace behind, to the front door. And, most of all, where's Danny?"

Stella pointed to the bat and then to the floor. "I took a swab but I bet that's his blood."

Flack handed Mac a portable phone. "This was on the floor and off the hook. We're doing a quick trace on the last call."

" And did you see the marks on the floor?" Aiden said, looking down, trying to block the blood drops and what they could mean out of her mind.

"And on the couch?" Stella pointed out, wrinkling her noise. "It'd take an awful big animal to do that."

"And Danny doesn't have a dog." Aiden said, crossing her arms, and worrying her lip. "What the hell happened?"

Stella sighed. "From what the neighbors told Mac and I, and its only what they heard, there was shout and then all hell broke loose. Some said there was screaming, some said there were gunshots, and more then one claimed to have heard the howling of a large dog."

"No one investigated?" Aiden demanded. Stella shrugged.

"They all said they were too scared to. One even used the words, 'heebie jeebies'."

"And don't forget this." Mac picked up a blanket from the floor. "Several people saw a woman entering the building earlier in the evening, asking which one was Danny's apartment. It looks like Danny had a guest."

"Okay," Flack interrupted. "We got the number but it makes no sense."

"What is it?" They turned to him.

"Its a cell number for Miami belonging to one, Horatio Caine, Miami Dade Police."

"We found a yellow bike down in the parking garage in Danny's slot. The plates are Miami plates and it's registered to a Timothy Speedle."

"Timothy Speedle?" Stella interrupted. "But he's dead, isn't he?"

Aiden nodded.

"So how did his bike get here?"

Stella paced to room while Mac immediately got out his phone and dialed.

"Horatio? It's Mac. We know that Danny was recently in contact with you. What was he talking to you about, it's very important. His apartment has been trashed; the door has been completely shattered from the inside, there's blood trace, he's missing and hasn't yet tried to contact us."

He then listened for a minute or so, agreed with something that was said, and hung up. He looked over at each of them and sighed before speaking.

"He knows more then he's telling me. He said that he and his team will be here as soon as possible. He didn't confirm or deny anything, but..." He trailed off.

"Heebie Jeebies?" Stella asked, looking around the room once more.

Mac stared at the bloody handprint on Danny's wall and nodded.

"Heebie Jeebies."

* * *

Series so far:

Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven (csi miami/ny cross)

The Right Thing (csi ny)

The Value of Trust (ncis)

There is a Price (csi lv)


	7. Chapter 7

Okay, this is a repost, and although I liked the idea of simultaneous scenes, the other version was a bit disjointed. So, after a re-shape, this hopefully brings things up to date, with the events mentioned below having their own chapters coming soon.

Warning: this is a fantasy AU and a crossover between csi ny/miami and will soon be crossing with csi lv and navy ncis.

Nothing below is mine, all CBS's I'm sure, and I get nothing for this but the airing of my brain and writer's cramp.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

_In the span of twenty-four hours a lot can happen._

For instance, a mere twenty minutes after Danny Messer's apartment was attacked, Horatio Caine and his team found themselves on a plane; in need of sleep, heart weary and exhausted, they sped towards New York with the hopes that their questions could be answered. Half way to their goal, Horatio finally succumbed, and dreamed.

Forty-five minutes after the attack found Fiona Donnell being roused from her bed by an approaching presence, the warning tingle of her protective wards awakening her from a sound sleep to instant alertness in seconds. It wasn't odd for her to have visitors at all hours; as far as she knew, she was the only medicine woman that catered to all manner of races with prejudice, save that they would never use her skills to harm another living creature. She knew that this was different; her wards were snapping under her visitor's power. She left her bed and moved to her door, opening it to two vague forms, one leaning heavily on the other.

"Sanctuary," The woman asked, and Fiona was struck by the use of her ancestor's mother tongue.

"Sanctuary freely given. You are invited into my home," Fiona answered back in old Irish.

As soon as they entered her wards doubled in strength.

In Las Vegas, almost fully five hours after the attack, Nick Stokes was just getting off shift and checking his phone messages while walking to his truck. Upon hearing them he froze, and after checking the perimeter, he moved swiftly back into the lab to take emergency leave.

He is unaware of being watched.

At the same time one Tony DiNozzo is just returning to D.C. after expediting a suspect suspected for terrorism back from Canada, wired from too much coffee, baiting McGee, and an uneasy feeling that he always acquaints with being followed. Already on edge, he is fully prepared for the sudden attack. He has the fleeting thought that, maybe, he should have warned McGee first. Then he has to laugh at the look on McGee's face as the roof of the car is peeled away.

Even though he just knows that Gibbs is going to make him pay for Probie's therapy bills.

Still worth it though.

_It is after the twenty-four that hope begins to die._

Detective Don Flack fell first, exhausted from pushing himself without rest or food, hunting down any possible leads on Danny Messer, growing more anxious and angry whenever they went nowhere. Finally he sat on the lab's break room couch and five minutes later he slept.

Next to him on the couch was Aiden Burn, curled into his body, even in sleep carefully cradling Danny's glasses to her chest. On her face were the track s of tears she wouldn't cry while awake, but that escaped when she was unaware.

Stella Bonasera was bent forward at the table, head pillowed on her arms and crime scene photos before her (not Danny's, no, crime happened even when one of their was missing, gone, maybe even), with Sheldon Hawkes coat over her shoulders.

The ME himself was across form her, arms crossed before him and half-slouched. He had stayed beyond shift, running small errands, picking up food, anything to help. In his hand he clutched his cell phone, open to speed dial, the number reading D. Messer.

Mac Taylor waits at his desk for anything new, eyes gritty with stress, and he rubs them wearily every five minutes.

He won't accept this.

He can't.

He reviews Danny's cases, open and recently closed. He looks into Danny's past, as much that he can, but there is nothing to raise red flags. His body has reached its limit but his mind wails in protest; one of his own is missing, he won't rest, he won't, not until Danny is found.

A good seventy-three hours after the attack finds Mac Taylor slumped over his desk, a witness statement still clutched in his hand.

And he dreamt.

* * *

He knew that he was dreaming.

He was sitting on the beach, enjoying the feel of the warmth of sand beneath his feet, watching the tide slowly come in. A light breeze ruffled his hair as he sat, enjoying the peace of the moment; the silence that was so rare in Miami, the sun reflecting the wet flame of the water, and the rhythmic breath of salt air on his skin. His head tilted as he hear approaching footsteps and relaxed slightly as they neared; he would know those steps anywhere.

"You could have told us," He said, not turning his head away from the scene before him. There was a soft sigh and then Tim sat down next to him, pulling his knees to chest, and reminding Horatio of an errant, pouting child. He had never looked so good.

Turning toward the water he was unsurprised to see his friend in the flesh next to him and a woman reflected in the water. When Speed raised a brow in question he merely grunted, and Speed smiled in response.

He saw Speed reach a hand out, cupping sand, and watched as it spiral around his palm like a small tornado.

"No, I couldn't have."

He nodded, not in agreement, but just to show that he understood.

"You didn't have to do it that way."

Hesitation. "It seemed the best way. If I had simply ran then you would have followed."

"You're right," Horatio agreed. "But it hurt us."

"What would have hurt more, that I couldn't stay, or that I wouldn't? There is no correct answer, H. Not with this."

"What's going on?" He turned to fully face his friend, his student and son. There was age in the face before him, and sorrow, and he wanted to erase the look from Speed's features.

"I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want you to know."

"Why?" He pressed.

There was a pause.

"Because death follows me. Because you wouldn't have let me go and if I stayed, it would have been you lying on the ground, bleeding out. Because I always make the wrongs choices." The voice had risen as the words spilled out, and the strain of unshed tears could be heard.

Then Speed whispered, "Because it was time to do the right thing."

Horatio stared at him.

"We run, we always run, but it still follows. We bury it and it unearths itself." Speed's appearance shifted and the female version stared at him, begging him to understand. When Horatio reached out, Speed shook her head, and pulled away from him.

"I had to leave, don't you understand? There's something I have to do. See?" She pointed to the horizon and they watched the gathering weather, the angry black clouds that were swelling as if they were a monstrous beating heart, and they watched it head in their direction. "It's coming."

Speed turned back to him. "I moved on for you, so it would be easier."

"In what way?" Horatio demanded.

"In that you wouldn't have to see me fail."

Horatio stood and reached out again. "You don't have to do this. We want to stand with you. We want to protect you."

"You still don't understand, H. It is not you who will protect me." Speed turned and ran, the wind picking up around her, picking up sand and blocking him as he struggled after her.

"It is I who will protect you."

"We'll find you, Speed! I'll find you! I promise!"

With a quiet cry Horatio Caine awoke. Wiping his hand over his face, he couldn't help but think that he had just had his own warning, and wondered why it couldn't have come before. He didn't believe in premonitions but this was merely reinforcing what he had known all along.

Speed was alive.

And he would find him.

* * *

He was dreaming.

He knew because he was standing in the center of Ground Zero, beyond the fences, watching the shadows of people pass him by.

He was inside looking out and it bothered him.

He turned him to see Aiden, Stella, Don, and Sheldon standing to his right. He turned to his left to see Horatio and that, he assumed, was his team standing with him.

Everything was so still that Mac jumps when one of Horatio's men steps forward, a young man with fair skin and hair, and turns to Mac.

"This isn't real, you know. This world, the world you know, wouldn't exist without you. You keep it this way and so, it is your reality."

The boy-man gestures at the barren hole in which they stand, at the bleak and gray New York, and the faceless people. Mac sees it all and then turns back to him when a hand is placed on his arm, turned to face behind him.

"But that is real."

A figure is coming towards him and at first he thinks that it is Claire, but as it steadily approaches Mac can see that he was wrong; Claire had never looked so inhuman.

The skin is as pale as the other's but where they're melded in with the background tones, hers shines brightly.

Her body is petite yet muscled, a fighter's body, and she walks with measured steps; Mac recognizes her manner, and knows that he has seen it before. Her eyes flare out at him with radiant blue, cold blue, which is in direct contrast with the fiery ginger of her hair, which swings behind her in braided ringlets. She is dressed in a simple sheath, white and gold adorning her, and when she stops in front of him he can count the scars that cover her arms and hands.

She is what he has been waiting for, he realizes, and looks at his team and knows that the one who was missing is found.

"Come home," He says.

"Where is home?" She replies.

"Home is with us." He answers.

"I have no home."

Dread begins to fill him as she turns from him, starting to walk away. Already she is fading and he knows that he'll never see her again. There are shadows moving in around her and he knows what they are hungry for.

"She is going to die." The boy-man tells him.

"No." He begs. "She can't."

"Why?"

She continues walking.

"We need her."

She stops but doesn't turn back.

Mac closes the distance between them and his team follows.

"I need her."

She turns back to him, looking even more unearthly as she glows softly, the golden light warming him. The boy-man has followed him.

"You have to choose."

"Choose what?"

"What you want her to be."

"I want her to be who she is, and whoever that turns out to be, I will accept. I swear it."

He finally reaches out to touch her, and their fingers entwine.

"Will you wield me, Mac?" She asks.

"I will wield you, Danny."

"Then bring me home."

With a gasp, Mac Taylor woke. He was a man of science, not fancy, but even as he shook off the effects of the dream, he knew that something had changed.

He just didn't know what it meant.

* * *

I am feeling better about this one, and even though it set me up for MAJOR writing, I feel no regret. 


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven 

Rating: Teen, as there is bad language below

Spoilers: CSI LV seasons 1 through 5, and a bit of 6. In the repost of ch. 6 (hint) there is a lead in to this. Other then that, it should be all smooth sailing.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_ Las Vegas_

God he was tired. A thirty-six hour shift does not a happy man make.

Nick Stokes wearily walked through the halls of the Las Vegas police lab, making his way from Grissom's office, counting the seconds down until he was out of there.

A smile graced his face; ah, he had the perfect weekend planned, just him and the sports channel and all the delivery he could eat. Bliss after the hell at work he'd just experienced.

They had the guy dead to rights, his prints on murder weapon and his DNA at he scene, but as he was the friend of the Sheriff Nick had been pulled as primary. Even though they had a new lead, Gris had told Nick to go home, telling him that he was already pushing his overtime and that he didn't want Nick to run himself into the ground. Nick had snorted without humor, both at the thought and the phrasing. Grissom had looked embarrassed, Nick had even seen a slight flush, but he still insisted Nick go. Nick had to admit that he did agree with his boss, but that wasn't the point. He wanted to tell Gris that he was a big boy and could decide for himself what he was capable of, despite everyone's best intentions, but he knew that he'd just sound petulant.

And he'd already been so down that road that he no longer needed both hands on the wheel to steer.

He fully realized that they all meant well, and their obvious concern and love warmed him to his core, but he was tired of being under their microscope, them watching him, waiting to see the cracks. Even now, when he looked to the sides at the open glass labs and the worker's within, he would catch them watch him pass by and turn away when he stared back; he had never felt so part of the freak show in his entire existence.

Which was a very long time.

He slowed his stride as he neared Trace, peering in at a scowling David Hodges who was trying to ignore a pestering Greg Sanders.

"Sanders, go away. You'll have your results when you have them. Go buzz in someone else's face."

He loved Hodges and smiled in amused sympathy at Greg's pithy reply.

Pushing open the doors to the lab he breathed in the early morning air, tasting the metallic city tang with his senses, letting Vegas's eternal vibrancy wash away the strain of his shift.

The lights of Vegas are so beautiful as they pulse with the heartbeat of the city, cradling each life and hope and tomorrow of all those that seek sanctuary within its gates; the thousands of rainbow strands of hearts and hands, wrapped around each life, connecting and creating. It has a power that drew Nick in the beginning, and a power that keeps him here, despite all that lurks beneath.

For under the covering glitter he feels the darkness, the shadows that hide beneath the light; predators that will never be stopped by human hand alone. Each breath the city takes is teeming with this cancer, a festering that is as unnatural as it is natural, and Nick carefully keeps his own aura shuttered, hiding it from unwelcome attention. He handles what he can on the job, and the rest, well, that's for the council to deal with.

He tried to stay out of that world as much as possible.

It wasn't his anymore.

_The wind ripped by her fiercely, the stench of the dead and the dying covering the once green hills, blanketing them in a haze of gray. These souls would not be passing on, she knew, and she would let her spirit mourn them later, but now, there was no time. Her kin had already reached their places, using the mists to hide their movements._

_Urging her mount onward she raced to the top of the Hill, the citadel of last defense. Behind her she could hear the quick approach of her hunters, which spurred her to push her mount faster, their breath on her neck, their words echoing in her ears._

Nick shuddered, the sudden memory tearing through him and pulling him out of this life and into the past. He stumbled against his truck, pressing his brow to its cool metal, and breathed deep to calm himself; maybe Grissom had been right, he thought, and he must be more wasted then he thought. There was no way that he would have slipped so, otherwise. The past was the past, there was no changing what was, and he had accepted that long ago. But...

Nick had learned to not ignore his instinct. It was how he had known Cassie was still alive. Unlike what he knew of his kin, Nick didn't push his feminine side aside, or treat it like a separate entity; he used it, and it was screaming at him now.

His family needed him.

With little time wasted he brought out his cell and punched in the special ID that they had set up between them, so that if one fell, there was no way to use the knowledge against the others. He tried D.C. first, knowing that as the oldest, Tony would have a clearer head about matters. He was sent to voice mail, which didn't worry him; there nothing unusual about Tony letting it message first, then answer. He then tried Timothy, who always answered.

Nothing.

Frowning at the dead line, Nick then tried Danny; when it rang dead again Nick decided it was time to start worrying. He turned to get into the truck, hoping to get home and try again there; he started when his cell beeped.

Incoming message, special code.

"Thank the Father," Nick breathed as he picked up. His face then froze at the message left, Danny's voice stressed beyond what Nick had ever heard.

"Uh, hey. Our youngest has deemed it necessary to drop everything, and I mean everything, and head my way. Its not good news. Could, in fact, mean that the in-laws are acting up. I just thought I'd give you a little warning as they may be stopping by at your place for Christmas if they're having thanksgiving here. Pass it on, yeah?"

BEEP

Holy.

Nick wasted no time; turning and running back to the lab, heading straight for Grissom's office, because he was very well versed in Danny speak. He bumped into a tech here and there but didn't slow.

Well, he thought in fear driven humor, this is certainly the best way to prove to everyone that I'm all right, isn't it? Way to low profile, Stokes.

But he couldn't slow, not even when both Greg and Hodge's heads popped out of Trace to stare at him and god, wasn't it just not even five minutes ago that he had passed them thinking about his weekend?

Grissom wasn't looking at him any better when he pushed his way into the office.

"Nick?" The boss asked slowly, his manner that of testing the water to see how deep he'll drop. "What's going on?"

"I gotta go." Nick blurted.

"Didn't I just send you home?" Grissom asked, looking perplexed.

Nick shook his head. "No, I mean, I need leave. I need to leave Vegas, like, now and thought you should know, before I went, so you'd know."

"Nick, what's going on?" Grissom stood and approached him slowly, and geez, Nick knew he was acting like a startled colt but he couldn't stop. Every bit of him was awake for what felt like the first time in ages, if ever, and he had to _move_.

"It's family, Gris. It's family and they need me. I gotta go, Gil; let me go."

Grissom started at him. "Will you be back?"

Yes. No. If I live, Nick thought.

Aloud he said, "When I can, I'll return. But-"

He broke off and looked at his boss, knowing that this could be it, the last time they see each other; no live feeds where he was going, no chance of explaining, no chance of making anything right.

"But if I don't, know that I never regretted a moment spent in this lab, with you and everyone. Through all the hell, I never regretted being here. I never regretted being Nick Stokes."

He could see that Grissom didn't understand, not now and maybe never, but it had needed to be said. Grissom nodded, accepting his leave of absence-too shocked to do anything but-and Nick left, having already said his goodbyes.

Well, not entirely.

He stopped by Trace on his out, Greg gone, most likely running to get the story out of Gris, but Hodges was still there. They studied each other.

"I think you're a fool," David said.

Nick grinned. "I love you too, man."

David snorted and turned his back.

"Without me here, Vegas should be safe. Let Heather know."

David's shoulders tensed and when he spoke, his tone was brittle. "You know, a hunt isn't a hunt if there's nothing to chase."

"It'll be different this time David; I can feel it."

"What?" Hodges barked, finally turning back to Nick. "This time they'll succeed in killing you?"

Nick stepped forward. "This time we'll run to, not from."

"You're going to convince your kin, the ones that have spent at least several centuries running and hiding, to actually fight back?" His voice was raised in disbelief.

Nick smiled, the smile that showed his true form, and Hodges drew in a breath. "I think it's about time. I like what I have here. I want to keep it for as long as I can; I fought Crane. I fought Gordon. I fought that fucking coffin just so I could come back and live as Nick Stokes. I'm not letting my past tear apart my future."

Hodges was silent, hearing the heritage in Nick's voice; not the oldest, no, but a Queen in her own right, Hodges knew that when Nick unleashed his true power the effects would be devastating. He wished he would be there to watch.

"Then go," He said and turned back to his work, leaving Nick blinking as the aura of station faded. "Lady Heather and I will keep watch over your city until you return. And remember my Lady," Hodges grasped Nick's hand (noting the staring technicians that were blatantly eavesdropping through the glass; they couldn't hear anything, thank god, but his and Nick's body language...).

"My people will be there if you have need."

Blinking back tears Nick stepped back, thanking Hodges with a nod of his head. With one final visual sweep (Mandy and Archie and Gris and Greg and Hodges, ooh, Catherine, Sara, and Warrick were gonna kick his ass for not saying goodbye), Nick Stokes walked away from the Las Vegas crime lab.

_She raced for the Hill, twisting her body around in her seat to strike back, delivering a blow that knocked the nearest attacker of his horse. She could feel her kin waiting in place, waiting for her to lure the last of them in. The circle loomed before her and just when they would have crossed into the sacred space, she fell back, and her pursuers sped on, entering it. _

_It was time._

_Dismounting swiftly she thrust he blade into the ground, piercing the circle, ignoring the yells resounding from within the Hill. Visible energy surrounded her as she drew her hand down the blade, rivets of blood coating the markings and being absorbed, and the power around her grew; her kin were doing the same, their aura's wrapping around hers in unison. _

_Plunging both wounded and unwounded hands into the earth she cried out as her core pulsed, and she screamed as she tore her hands out, clutching a stone in her hand, barely aware of the circle flared then vanished from before her. It was done; the way was sealed._

_Tears fell as she lay there, letting the heavy silence roll over her, hoping it would eventually drown out the cries of her people._

"_Traitors!"_

"_Betrayers!"_

"_You turn on your own kind, choosing the usurpers over your own race?" _

"_This is not forever, you cannot keep it closed forever, and when it finally opens we will be waiting."_

"_There will be no place in their world that you can hide."_

"_We will hunt you."_

"_We will always be hunting you."_

* * *

okay, I'm probably screwing with timelines, but I'm not sure how they all line up.

Timeline I'm using:

CSI NY season 1

CSI Miami season 3 (beginning)

CSI LV season 6

NAVY NCIS season 3

Pieces in the series of Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven

**The Value of Trust** ncis

**The Right Thing** csi:ny

**There is a Price** csi: lv


	9. Chapter 9

Not mine, never mine, all CBS.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_D.C._

"Come on, Probie! How can you not see the glory that is The Mask? It was a wonderful jump from novel to screen, the effects were great-at its time and now-and Cameron Diaz. Cameron Diaz, Probie, in that little glittery number..."

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo trailed off, a dreamy smile on his face. He and Special Agent Timothy McGee were on their way back from a suspect transfer, little bugger had tried to run, and Tony was idling the hours away with tormenting McGee. He couldn't help it; it was early in the morning, he'd had no sleep for the past twenty-four, and McGee was there, right there. He loved winding him up, the cute little splutter when McGee couldn't figure out if he was being serious or not, and Tony took devilish pleasure in seeing it every time.

'How you can say that?" McGee protested. "Granted it spurred Jim Carey's career up in its highest point, it was simply a special effects produced marketing ploy, with no redeeming mental and social values." He paused. "And it was a graphic novel, a comic, not a novel, Tony."

"With Cameron Diaz in a small, short, glittery dress." Tony pressed. And McGee conceded defeat.

"And Cameron Diaz in a glittery dress."

"Oy!" Their perp piped up from the backseat, sneering at them. "Is this what you guys get paid for? I can't believe it, I've been arraigned by tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum."

"Hey," Tony called back. "You watch it or I'll send Special Agent McGee here to pistol whip you." He paused, thinking back to their suspect's monstrous size. "Or gnaw your ankles."

McGee looked over at him with a look on his face, the one that either meant, "I can't believe you said that" or "I'm annoyed at the unprofessional nature of your statement in regards to the current situation." Kate had looked at him the same way when he'd comment on her clothes, feminist attitude, and lack of male companionship. There was nothing against Ziva, once she stopped scaring you, but he missed Kate. There were times when he could still hear her laugh, still smell her perfume, still taste her awful healthy foods.

At times he still had the taste of her blood in his mouth.

He had almost quit then; taken off after Ari before the funeral, before Gibbs could, because despite how intimidating Gibbs was, he was still only human.

Tony wasn't.

Tony wouldn't have had any qualm about hunting Ari down and eviscerating him, shifting to true form and peeling him with her finger nails alone, watching him slowly bleed. Or just peeling his skin off altogether.

Somehow he didn't think that was even in Gibbs's range of skills, and for some reason the man's good opinion mattered to him.

Besides, Kate wouldn't have wanted him to.

"Police abuse," the perp grumbled, slouching down in the backseat. Tony met his eye in the rearview.

"Boy, you don't know what abuse is." He murmured near silent, making sure that the man saw the glint in his eyes before turning back to the road. McGee craned his neck back, then turned to Tony.

"Tony?"

"Just a little warning, Probie; I'll be starting on Dumb and Dumber next. Maybe even the Cable Guy."

"God forbid," He heard McGee mutter.

It was easy job, just bring their runner back to headquarters, but Tony's nerves were agitated, humming. It wasn't the perp, it wasn't McGee or Gibbs or the job. He didn't know what it was.

His cell rang, double beep.

"Going to answer that?" McGee asked.

Oh, now he knew what that feeling was.

"Nope," Tony quipped, a dark smirk playing across his face as his shoulder's tensed. No matter how much time passed, he could never forget; it was part of the reason he became a cop, after all. 

He would always be ready for this.

With a screech of metal the top to their car was ripped away, a beast out of man's worst nightmares hovering above them.

In the back seat their suspect screamed like a little girl.

"Holy!" McGee cried, instinctively lowering himself in his seat as far as he could with the seat belt stilled buckled.

Tony twisted the wheel left, thanking the Father that the roads were empty, or else he and McGee would have to be scraped off the pavement; the thing above them hung on, claws digging into the car, vainly reaching in to swipe at those inside.

"Shut up!" Tony yelled without looking at the suspect freaking out in the backseat; he was impressed that McGee was keeping his cool, but that could be attributed to the fact that he was frozen in position, eyes locked on what was looming above him. The beast lunged forward again, it's screeching grating on Tony's ears, feeling the prick as its talons could only nip at his shoulder, being unable to enter any further.

Another wild turn and Tony had effectively dislodged their extra passenger.

"Take the wheel!" Tony wasted no time, unbuckling and bringing his weapon to bear on the creature above them, knowing the bullets wouldn't kill it but hoping to buy a little time. He fired at the same time he pressed the break, and as the car lurched back and the creature flew ahead, he unloaded his clip into it. He jumped from the car to see its form crumpled on the ground, vaguely aware of the suspects whimpering cries behind him, and of McGee also exiting the car, gun raised.

"That won't do any good, Tim."

McGee's hands were shaking so bad Tony didn't think he'd be able to hit his target, anyway.

"W..w..what do you mean? What is that?" The younger man stuttered and Tony felt a flash a regret that it had to be like this, but the choice was out of his hands.

Tony studied the misshapen beast before them, as bullets were slowly being expelled from its sodden body, pushed out as it struggled to rise.

"A wraith. Made from," Tony took a sniff. "Sea, earth, mostly soil. Your gun won't stop it."

McGee turned to him, blinking. "Then why did you shoot it?"

"To buy time," He answered, sparing at glance at his coworker. "Grab Jones and go, McGee. I'm sure the accident," He winced, looking back at the destruction of the car. "Ahem, will bring the police here soon; you can get a ride back with them. Tell Gibbs it was a pleasure; tell Abby I'm sorry." He turned and walked towards the wraith, dropping his weapon as he did so.

"Wait, Tony!" McGee cried. "What's going on? What are you doing? Tony!"

The wraith was already to its feet.

"Go, McGee."

He didn't have time to see if McGee followed his advice as the wraith screamed and lunged, claws fully extended, moving quickly. This time Tony was ready, having positioned himself exactly where he wanted. At the last minute Tony shifted and the wraith ripped through and into the hydrant that was behind him; the erupting water soaked them both as Tony danced out of the way and across the street, moving in front of another hydrant. The wraith barreled back, shrieking, but once again Tony jumped out of the way and it tore into the hydrant instead. Rolling to stand in the middle of the street, Tony watched the wraith stand fully upright-reaching around eight feet-as it paced closer; it rage pierced the air, unhampered by the downpour from the broken hydrants. Sod dripped off it, but not enough to hamper its approach towards him. Tony stood his ground and smiled darkly.

"You see, this is why you're fodder; the foot soldiers that are sent to the front lines to keep the officers safe. You're stupid, mindless beings created by siphoning the spirits of good men."

The wraith hissed in response.

"But that's alright; it just makes doing this easier. And when you return to the dark hands that spawned you, tell them this." Tony shifted, easily flowing into the other form. She smirked as she raised her arms and the water spray around her roared in response, flow increasing as she pulled it out, letting it spiral around her.

"No matter what you send, who you send, the way will stay closed." The water formed a wall of solid mass around her, though her face remained, flinty eyes and smile like a beacon. "We continue to defy you."

The wraith pounced.

And was crushed under the onslaught of water that Tony released.

After, she could pick out little bits of dirt in the puddles, but other then that, it was gone; the animation the fueled the wraith fleeing back to its masters. The sudden and extreme pressure had barreled into it at the sped of a freight train, blowing it's body into pieces that even the most powerful of recuperative abilities wouldn't be able to reform. After ensuring that it was and truly gone she hadn't stayed; she could hear the sirens, only a block away now, and knew that McGee was also no longer there, as well. She wouldn't feel guilty, she wouldn't; in his own way, and rather quickly, Tony had said goodbye.

She refused to dwell on it.

What was foremost in her mind was the fact that as she had made her way home, she couldn't reach Nick, couldn't reach Danny, and couldn't reach Speed. No one was answering their phones.

Hell.

Okay, look at it logically, Tony reasoned as she walked, keeping a level eye out for any passing danger. The Hunt would have struck at the weakest of them first; so, that was Speed, who couldn't fight as well as the rest of them, and who was also the greatest danger.

So Miami was out.

Nick was probably the most protected, having set up a powerful community in her territory for refugees, and the council held utmost law. So there was no danger to Nick while in Vegas, well, not from the Hunt; Tony had a few words for her kin when they next talked, having found out about the 'burial thing' from the news of all places. Tony was going to enjoy kicking Nick's ass.

But still, as long as Nick was in Vegas, Nick was safe. Unless Danny had called Nick first, warning him, and Nick had left the city to meet up with his kin, Tony thought, which was really a Nick thing. Damn his own protection, let's go play cowboy.

Really looking forward to kicking that ass.

So if Nick was gone and Speed was gone, that left Danny, and that meant New York.

Tony crept up to her apartment door slowly, letting her senses flare out, seeking; if danger lurked, she wanted to be able to make a fast getaway, not willing to subject the elderly neighbors to the destruction that could be wreaked.

Their race wasn't particularly known for their concern for 'lesser' races, and Tony wasn't willing to risk it.

Letting out an unconscious sigh of relief, Tony swung the door open and headed towards the bedroom to pack a quick bag, totally missing the figure sprawled on his couch.

"Going somewhere, DiNozzo?"

Hell.

She really should have known better.

* * *

Tony's voice was rather hard to grab hold of; he can be silly, serious, and occasionally he has a really dark side to him, which I thought would be perfect to bring out. I hope I did him justice.

Boy, these guys (or girls) just don't want to leave their families; Tony wouldn't go without having a one-on-one with Gibbs. And we all know that Gibbs's wouldn't let him, either.

So, I'm not sure where to go with the next chapter, as at least five different scenarios have been introduced. I'll see where my gut leads me.

I hopefully will get a quick sketch put up on my LJ of their fem forms, soon, maybe tonight.


	10. Chapter 10

Not mine, at all, or ever.

The breaks mean a change of scene.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

It had gone far better then she could have hoped.

"Well, this is unusual."

"Ahhh, you're in the wrong apartment...sir?"

"Tony."

"Heh, yeah Boss?"

"Cut the crap."

Ouch.

"Were you going to say goodbye? Were you going to say anything?"

"After what happened on the street I thought a quick escape would be best. Is McGee alright?"

"McGee's fine. Not as shook up as you would think."

She snorted. "Figures not even a spectacle like that could phase the elf-lord."

"Jones, however, is now trying to go with an insanity plea."

She winced, hoping the case wasn't screwed. "Yeah, let's see how far that gets him in regards to gun smuggling."

"DiNozzo."

"Sorry Boss."

"So this is what? You were just going to crawl away, no word, and leave me to find out when you never showed up, ever again?"

"No, I would have come back." If she lived.

"Then what the hell was that you told McGee, 'tell them I'm sorry?' Sounds final to me."

It seemed that no matter the shape, Gibbs would still be able to intimate her, and she shrunk as he loomed over her.

"Ahh, just didn't want to leave any loose ends." She paused, dropping the facade. "I will come back, if I'm still alive. I swear it."

Gibbs stepped back slightly.

"It's that dangerous?"

She hesitated. "I want to lie, but, yeah, it's that dangerous. And when I go my priorities are not going to be self-interest first. I have...duties. I can't not go."

"This is that important." Not a question, not from Gibbs.

"Family is." She met his eyes, hiding nothing. Gibbs raised a brow.

"I thought you didn't speak with your father?"

She moved away, tugging at tangled blonde locks. "My father's an ass. My sisters, however, mean everything. No matter what happens here Gibbs, I'm going." She continued on her path to the bedroom, looking back over her shoulder only to say, "I'd rather have you as a ally then an enemy."

She could have cried with joy when Gibbs slapped the back of her head.

She knew that he had her loyalty for a reason.

"One week DiNozzo, then I expect you either back at your desk, as usual, or a phone call explaining why I shouldn't hunt you down and drag you back in cuffs."

She laughed, a freeing noise in the apartment. "I think Abbs'll beat you to it."

She turned back and raised her hand, and they shook on it.

"Just so you know, there's no one else I would trust more with this Gibbs. When I get back, you get everything. No lies."

Gibbs acknowledged her guarantee that she's return with a nod.

"You need us, call. Director be damned; we've got your six."

"I'll hold you to that."

Now, exiting the plane, she wondered if that wasn't over optimistic. After all, the Hunt had spent the last years seething in the darkness while they had playing in the world of light; they weren't exactly at their best. Too many years being human had blunted the edge, Tony thought sourly, her fight with the wraith could attest to that.

At full power it wouldn't have gotten close enough for McGee to notice.

Well, at least she could drop the glamour. If, after they fixed whatever had happened, she could go back to the life she had built as Tony DiNozzo, she wanted to know that he wouldn't be brought up on any charges. Epics battles on street corners tended to draw a crowd. So, for the duration, no DiNozzo, no male, no chance of it coming back to haunt her afterwards; she just hoped the others were being as smart as she was.

But now she'd have to buy a whole new wardrobe.

Grabbing her bag from luggage she made her way towards the exit doors, intent on reaching Danny's apartment quickly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a group making its way towards them as well, and heading pretty fast, so she slowed and looked over.

And froze.

That just had to be Horatio Caine, Tony remembered from Speed's descriptions of the red-haired man, and the one barreling towards her fit him to a tee; all suppressed power and purpose, he moved with determination and led his team without hesitation. He totally reminded Tony of a certain silver-haired marine. The people following behind Tony could pick out by description: mother instinct and warmth must be Alexx, luminous and composed is Calleigh, tanned skin and wild passion was so Eric, but Tony couldn't place the last one. But he made her skin burn with untapped potential and then she knew, pulling her shield around her all the more tightly.

Druid.

Slowing her pace to an almost stop, she let pass by, appearing to be concerned with checking her bag, watching them through lowered bangs. Okay, this really made things difficult; why were they here, did they follow Speed, what the hell was going on? And the druid, why didn't her kin ever mention him? She looked up at them again, and by chance, her eyes meet Caine's.

Sharp blue clashed with sharp green, as the two alphas scented each other. She knew who Caine was, but he didn't know her, and yet she knew that he was struck by something in her; probably the same thing he had felt in Speed, he recognized in Tony, the same aura or allure. But Tony wasn't like her kin, and Caine knew it, instinctively reacting to a threat by seeking it out. Which meant the man-boy was on his team.

Oh, wasn't that great.

When she was sure that Caine had turned his attention away from her, she followed them out, hoping to avoid them altogether but no luck.

"Where to first, H?" She over heard Eric ask, as they waited to flag down a cab. "Do we even now where to start?"

"Eric's right," Calleigh chimed in. "Does Detective Taylor want us to head to the station first, or go to the apartment to check out the bike?"

Caine shook his head. "No, he said that they'd tow the bike from Messer's apartment and leave it at the station garage for us." Now THAT caught Tony's attention.

"Is there any news on Detective Messer's whereabouts yet, or is he still missing?"

The hell?!

Tony was seconds from damning subterfuge to hell and demanding to know what the hell was going on when a cab bus pulled up, and the group entered, but not before the man-boy bent over to grab his bag and he looked up, seeing her for the first time.

No matter how many generations passed, their kinds always knew each other. He paled surprising fast as they looked at each other and she felt a tendril of his aura reach out, teaching her own, and recoiling at the age and power of it. He shuddered violently.

Serves him right for coping a feel without asking, Tony thought with a smirk, which almost sent the guy into a panic. She couldn't help but grin; this guy was more wound up then McGee.

"Ryan? You alright?"

Calleigh had reached out to touch the man-boy's arm, drawing his attention away from Tony and back to his where his team was waiting for him. Tony watched him straighten and use his arm to wipe the sweat of his brow, as he tried to center himself.

"Yeah," He said, pointedly ignoring Tony and getting into the cab. "Jet-lag just caught up to me."

Caine was the last to enter but before he did, he turned to Tony, locking eyes once more and Tony couldn't resist. After all, she had no idea of what these people really were, and for her, trust and respect has to be earned before it is given. And her standards were higher then her kin's. So, hailing her own cab, she grinned at him, giving him the DiNozzo special.

"Tread carefully Lieutenant; here there be monsters."

* * *

Nick shivered as she wrapped her jacket closer, still acclimatized to Vegas weather. She tugged her auburn hair back into a tighter bun, and away from her face, grumpily aware that travel always made it frizzy.

There was one more layover and then she would be in New York, hopefully finding a way to contact the others; she still couldn't get in touch with any of them. Before she left, Heather had given her a list of possible havens in the city where Nick would find sanctuary, her kin, and hopefully both. Nick sighed, leaning back against the seat.

Heather had been troubled, and hadn't wanted Nick to go, but understood the reasons. Family was family, after all. And kin was even closer.

But, she had warned, something was off and she had wanted to investigate before Nick left.

Nick hadn't waited, telling Heather to just call if she discovered something.

Now, though, Nick wondered if Heather might have been right. Something was off.

In a few hours Nick would be arriving in New York, a city some thought was full of hope and dreams; to Nick, it loomed like a guillotine.

And it beaconed to her.

* * *

_He had loved the look of the old book, sitting there on the shelf, hidden by a slight layer of dust. He couldn't believe that no one had snatched it up, as he lifted it, carefully wiping the grit away. The cover was leather, the pages a rough type of parchment, and in fantastic condition; it had to be at least several centuries old, at least._

_He bought for a steal, at fifteen dollars._

_At home he carefully pulled the pages apart, looking with wonder at the hand-drawn prints of the past, tales of god and mortals and worlds long forgotten. He couldn't read the language, some form of ancient Gaelic perhaps, or older, but he was able to follow the images._

_An island formed and wars that followed, drawn by the power held within the sacred lands._

_Images of monsters from the depths, misshapen beasts that hunted and killed, and the force that was raised to halt their progress._

_His fingers traced with care over the face of the Queen, as she raised the star in her hand, and the monsters fled in her wake. He could imagine her great beauty._

_He looked at the runes, the marked letters that were inscribed on the pages, and bent to grab a sheet of paper to transfer them._

_"Ow!"_

_A paper cut, a small thing, but a drop had landed on the pages of the book. With no time to bandage he used the tissue to try to wipe up the spill, hoping he hadn't damaged the page. He gaped as the blood vanished, soaked through into the book._

_Feverishly he grabbed a knife and cut himself, a small one, and dripped onto the page; it happened again, soaking in, and the images became more defined. He made cut after cut, and as time went on, he could read the book as the words became clear, and he understood._

_The book held great promise and power, and he knew how to get it._

_He grabbed the bloodstained knife, holding it to both wrists, and pushed down. When the cuts were made he leaned over and pressed them to the pages, feeling the power course through his body._

_"Oh yes!"_

_He bled out, falling onto the table, heart slowing then stopping._

_Silence._

_The body twitched._

_And then righted itself, picking up the book._

_Tapping a nail against the page, the body read the words, calling forth its pets._

_A window had been opened; now, it just needed to open a door._

_And it knew what it needed to do so._

_It just had to bring them here._

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

Warning: foul language and fantasy elements.

These guys aren't mine, but I still love them.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

The Donnell house remained closed during the day, as its owner cared for the two under her protection. Fiona had shifted between awe and worry all day, as in her house were beings straight out of legend, which led to the other emotion, for what could have driven such powerful beings to seek refuge in the first place. The woman, Speed, moved with fluid grace, wind-like, through her house; every once in a while she made approving noises over what she found, but for the most part, her attention was locked on the figure bedded on Fiona's couch. He was barely visible, huddled down in all the blankets that Fiona had, shivering and sweating, which was an odd combination as his skin was so cold.

Even though he was burning inside.

"Here my Lady, tea." Fiona approached, holding a steaming cup out.

Speed nodded her thanks and took it, sipping at the liquid inside. "None of that. No titles, please."

"Sorry," Fiona shrugged. "Habit, I guess. It's just, your kind has a reputation of expecting respect, no offense."

Speed snorted, moving back towards the living room. "I'll curse you with a donkey's head later if you'd like. But for now, I'd just as soon appreciate the normalness."

Which was another odd thing; from all the stories, tales, and legends, she had expected one of this ancient race to be aloof, regal, and patient. And less sarcastic.

Instead, Speed was hovering, visibly concerned and anxious, waiting for her friend to wake up.

"Tell me about the bind again," Speed demanded, settling herself on the floor in front of the couch, cross-legged and chewing on a fingernail.

Definitely not what Fiona expected.

"The bind itself is standard, almost mediocre." She pointed to the circles. "Not pro. It was meant to keep something, not destroy. Most likely made from human hand, probably just copied exactly from a book"

Speed nodded, having been over this with her before. "Although still a rape of the spirit, there was no darker intent meant."

Fiona shifted the blankets, pulling the man's arm out from underneath. "The problem comes in with the name used in the inscribing."

Speed smiled grimly at her. "I don't think I need to tell you that my true name isn't Speed."

Fiona smiled back. "I have dealings with the other worlds, I know the power of names." "If that's true," The other sighed, "then whoever did this wanted to keep Danny for himself, not for what he truly is."

"Whatever your friend really is, it's damaging him." Fiona pulled the blankets back over the arm. "The edges are too angry; like there's an internal force pushing against the binding, trying to break free. This is what's causing it to bleed, and causing your friend's fever."

"Not friend," The man groaned, blue eyes blinking out at them from the pile. "Kin."

Fiona gasped. "You're Sidhe? Who would dare?"

Danny groaned, trying to sit up. "Someone who was too stupid to know what they were dealing with." He turned, owlishly blinking in Fiona's direction. "Can you break it?"

Fiona bit her lip in thought. "I think so, but, I'll need help and..." She trailed off.

Both Speed and Danny stared at her, waiting.

"I think the strain is going to be too much for your human body; it could die."

Danny cursed roughly in Italian.

"No matter what, it has to be broken." Speed insisted. "If it isn't, the strain is going to kill you anyway; the human body wasn't made to withstand the internal temperature that you're capable of producing. It's either that, or kill whoever placed it."

Silence.

"Danny..." Speed growled.

Danny blinked innocently.

Fiona giggled.

"Alright," Danny sighed. "No hunting down and killing like the dog deserves. But," He insisted, "I'm not doing it unless I can be called back to this life. I happen to like what I have here." He reached out and grabbed his kin's hand.

"Sorry, Speed."

"What?" Fiona asked, shivering under the sudden air of sorrow. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Speed stood, pacing away. "It's not important. What is important is figuring out how to unleash Danny's true form without destroying the person that he is."

"And doing it quickly. I think that tonight we should expect more company." Danny said, reminding them of the wraith. "I have to be in full fighting form for that."

Speed sighed and nodded. "Right. So?" They both turned to Fiona, waiting. Fiona walked over to a shelf, grabbing a small vial.

"It should be relatively easy to break, as the bind is amateurish in form. But to do that you'll need someone from your mortal life to be there, or at least be in familiar surroundings, to act like an anchor."

Danny turned to Speed and wiggled his fingers. "Help me up, I gotta go to work." He stood uneasily, swaying.

"Where's my glasses?" He demanded, glaring at his unfocused surroundings.

"Are you crazy?" Speed hissed, slipping an arm under Danny's. "After the state your apartment was in? Way to low profile!"

"Look," Danny hissed back, "at this point, I don't care! I can't really go home, now can I, so its gotta be the lab." He turned to a bemused Fiona. "You have a car, right?"

She nodded.

"So, here's the plan. We should be safe out there until nightfall, so we go, do what we gotta do, and beat it outta there. No problem, no one see me, and no one'll recognize you in this form, Speed."

Both of his companions didn't look convinced but Danny was adamant, after all; how hard could it be? They had a midwife experienced in other worldly stuff, and they were two of the oldest and most powerful of beings. What could go wrong?

But as they left, Danny couldn't help but think that he was forgetting something.

It couldn't be that important.

By the time they had reached the New York Police Lab Danny's fever had risen, so Speed had entered on her own, looking for a private space they could effectively break the binding without bringing too much attention to themselves.

The lab was cold to Speed, all concrete and glass and steel, and she longed again for the warmth of Miami, and the way it seeped into everything. She fiddled with the clothes Danny had thrust on her, stylish and casual, so that she wouldn't stand out in her rough jeans and over shirts. Speed snorted. New York had certainly sucked in her sister, if Danny was worrying about fashion at a time like this. She slowed her step accordingly, trying to look like she belonged in the lab, trying to not draw any attention to herself; a glance at the glass proved that it was not working, and she cursed her people's long lives, and that fact she still had a baby face after several centuries.

At least as a guy she could hide under the six o'clock shadow.

She missed the scruff.

After traversing the lab once, she knew that the file rooms near the basement would have to do, and they'd just have to risk that no one would need an obscure form. Hopefully. She pivoted to make her way back to where Fiona and Danny where waiting when she collided into someone just turning the opposite corner, sending both of them to the ground. Pushing her hair out of her face, she grimaced and looked over at the other person to apologize.

Oh shit.

She was going to kill Danny, slowly, painfully, and extremely.

Jumping to her feet she quickly reached down and grabbed Calleigh's hand to pull her up, murmured a soft "sorry" and started to move-don't run, don't run-down the hall. She knew the tension in her body would be obvious to anyone but hoped they wrote it off as embarrassment. She could hear familiar voices behind her, oh so familiar, and she pushed back her tears with ruthless need. She could just see Fiona and Danny slowly peeking out from where they had secluded themselves when the worst happened.

Speed saw a shadow move of it's own accord, directly behind Danny, and she knew they had seriously screwed up.

Eyes narrowed, she opened her mouth, moving to warn them when a hand closed around her arm. Twisting back, instinct raising her hackles, she growled and came face to face with Mac Taylor.

"Do you work here?" He asked, his suspicions rising at her body language, the tension vibrating her frame, hands flexing.

Beyond his shoulder stood Horatio Caine.

Her brain froze on Horatio, for he was staring at her, blue eyes wide, the shocked look fading into recognition, and she realized that he knew. She wasn't sure how, but he knew.

There was movement behind her as Fiona and Danny moved forward, not yet noticing the company that was gathering. Then Taylor's gaze slid past her and focused on Danny.

Then several things happened.

Taylor's grip slackened, she was able to move away from him and towards Danny and Fiona, but Horatio's gaze kept her trapped. Both teams were gathering around them and a new presence pushed its way into her awareness. A young man came into view, eyes locked on her with wonder, then sliding past to widen comically.

Druid.

"Danny?" Taylor said, trying to step around her.

"Tim?" Horatio whispered, tears glinting in his eyes.

"Tuatha," The druid boy breathed, watching them with reverence.

"Milesian!" Danny snarled, focusing on the power as he was still blind as a bat, Fiona struggling to both hold him up and back as his body tried to lunge forward.

"Wraith!" Speed screamed as the lights flickered and went out, shapes falling down on them from above. She dove into action, no thought, just motion as her mind registered only one thing:

Her family was in danger. Protect the family, at all cost.

Speed vanished and Fionnula Den Tieve emerged.

* * *

WOW! I hope I didn't rush it, but it spurring me on!

Battle, battle, battle!

Read and review; it inspires me!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 11**

_Earlier_

Eric didn't understand the sudden tension in both Horatio and Ryan; well, after all the mess with Speed and his now not-so-apparent death, Horatio's stress he got. But Wolfe's, his had started after he had seen something at the airport, something that spooked the hell out him, but when Eric looked he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary, save a very beautiful; so beautiful, she put even Calleigh's gorgeous looks to shame. And if a beautiful girl scared Ryan then, well, that wasn't his problem.

But Horatio had stiffened as well.

And he wasn't sure, but, he thinks that the same woman had followed them from the airport; he had been looking back, seated in the front seat, and thought he saw her in the cab theirs. Then they had turned left, the one behind turned right, and that was that.

Still, a feeling of unease had buried its way into Eric, what his mother would call his 'sixth-sense', and it was screaming all kinds of warnings. He shivered.

He didn't like New York that much, too cold, too dark, too forbidding. While Miami and New York both had a welcoming presence, Miami's was inviting in an open way, comforting with sun and ocean and sand; he felt like New York was a trap, just waiting to devour an innocent whole. He couldn't wait to go home.

And, if Speed really was alive and here, drag his friend back with him, handcuffed if need be.

Arriving at the New York lab was interesting, and meeting the other team was an experience. Detective Stella Bonasera and Detective Don Flack met them outside, and while he admired her beauty, Eric was also struck by the bleakness in her eyes. A glance at Flack produced the same look, except his was tinged with hopelessness; eyes tinged with the knowledge of what forty-eight missing usually meant. Flack already believed his friend dead.

After the introductions they were led into the lab itself, and while the heavy walls and cages were not to Eric's taste, he thought that they fit this city well.

"Here, you can drop your stuff off in the break room and grab some food if you want; we're all meeting in Mac's office, it's just to the left, there." Bonasera was blunt, focused on the job, and Flack followed her out of the room without a word.

"I can't blame them," Alexx said, collapsing in a chair. "After all, if it was Speed missing, would we be any better?"

"It is Speed," Calleigh sighed and reached for the open pizza on the table. "But you're right; at least knowing Speed was dead is preferable to wondering where he is, if he taken by force, and if not, why?" Her voice trailed off, but they were all thinking the same thing; if not by force, why did he leave?

Horatio rubbed his forehead. "No what ifs. Grab some food while you're here; I'm going to get started."

"H, you okay?" Eric asked, studying his boss's furrowed brow.

"Just a headache." The red-head said, walking out the door. After a short pause, Ryan decided to follow him.

"You're not hungry?" Horatio asked.

"Naw, not really. I want to get started on this as much as you do." Ryan said, hands in his pockets.

"Why?" Horatio stopped. "You've never met Danny, or Tim Speedle."

Ryan chose his words carefully.

"I respect that they're your friends, and fellow officers. I know that I'm new to the team but, from what I've heard about Speedle, he was a good man and I want to do honor to his memory. I really do want to help in anyway that I'm capable of, but I understand if I'm making things awkward, being the new guy, who some think took his place. But, if he is still alive, all I want to do is bring him home. That is the truth."

Horatio was looking at him, into him, and then smiled as he deemed what Ryan said authentic.

"You're a good man, Mr. Wolfe, and I am proud to have you on my team. But," He paused and focused a hard gaze on him, searching. "If I find out that you've lied in any way, I couldn't see keeping you on my team. I will not work with someone I can't trust."

"W, what do you think I'd hide from you?" Ryan stuttered, heart beating loudly in his ears.

"At times you have this look in your eyes, like you know more then you're saying." Horatio looked off in the distance. "I saw your reaction to the woman at the airport; the blonde. It wasn't natural."

"What, it's not natural to be stunned by a beautiful woman?" Ryan evaded, mind racing. Out of all of them, he should have known that Horatio would be the most perceptive.

"Ryan, before we left, that woman looked straight at me and said, 'Lieutenant, here there be monsters.' How did she know me, Ryan?" The blues eye bored into him. "What did she mean?"

"Ahem." Ryan fidgeted, than stilled, looking at his boss.

"Honestly, Horatio? I don't know. It's not like a big conspiracy," And really, wasn't THAT a lie, "And there are things that I haven't told you, but not because I want to hold them back." Ryan hastened to explain. "But because they're strange and fantastic, and I had no proof. That's all, I swear on the Father."

"I believe you. And I have believed in you, Ryan." Horatio answered, walking again, "Shouldn't you have done the same of me?"

Ryan hung his head, pushing back the tears of frustration that beckoned. He was screwed either way, whether he told all he suspected or not; he felt for Speed in the moment, wondering if this was exactly what he had gone through before he left.

When Ryan raised his eyes again and moved into the office, after Horatio, the man behind the desk took one look at his face and paled.

_It wasn't possible._

Mac Taylor believed in two things with certainty; that all things are connected, and that science, ninety-nine percent of the time, answered all things.

There was no plausible answer for this.

A face he had seen in a dream, and a very strange dream at that, was standing before. It was a face he had never seen is person, or at all, but he had dreamt it; seeing it on a person in his office made it real, which really made him wonder about the rest of his dream.

How much of that, was real?

And what did it mean?

"Mac?"

He vaguely heard Stella's voice, and other questions, but he kept his eyes trained on the young man, almost afraid to blink, that he would vanish.

"Who are you?" He asked.

The young man blinked, nervous under his scrutiny. "Ah, Ryan Wolfe, a CSI from Miami."

Mac turned to Horatio, who was studying them both, calculating. "He's one of yours?"

Horatio nodded.

"What the hell is goin' on, Mac?" Flack demanded, taking an aggressive stance. "This guy bad news?" He glared at Ryan, who took a step back in response.

"I don't know," Mac said, standing and moving towards him. "After these last few days I don't seem to know much anymore; but this I know." He stopped in front of Ryan, eye to eye, with Horatio closing in on his left, Flack and Stella his right, uncertain of his move.

"You know what's going on."

Ryan vehemently shook his head. "NO! I don't know anything!"

"You lie," Mac hissed, hours of frustration bubbling up. "I saw you."

"Mac?" Sheldon and Aiden hovered in the door, wary of the vibrant tension.

"As crazy as it sounds, in my dream I saw you; you warned me." He didn't look away from Ryan, neither did Horatio, and both of them caught his flinch.

"What?" The young man breathed, still looking confused, but underneath was some kind of knowledge, and it drove Mac on.

"You warned me about Danny, about the shadows." Mac paused. "You told me only I could save her."

He didn't realize the slip, but Ryan did.

"Fuck," He gasped. "Messer's one of them?" It was said near whisper, but the vigilant ears around him caught it. He had all of their attention now; Stella and Flack looking almost murderous, worry ruling their emotions. Aiden and Sheldon looked confused, and hung almost out of the door. Horatio's face both cleared and darkened at once.

"One of who, Ryan?" Horatio immediately pressed, and Mac looked triumphant at being proven right. They had boxed him in.

"It's, I can't, Horatio." Ryan protested, looking from face to face, ending on his boss. "Please understand, that I can't."

"Why?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, just, drop it." He was almost begging, his hands flexing in frustration.

"Fat chance," Stella snarled. "After what happened to Danny's apartment, the answered questions and inconsistence? If you know anything, I won't rest until I get everything from you, one way or the other."

Horatio's voice was calming, and Ryan latched onto it, like a drowning man to a raft.

"Why can't you tell us what you know, Ryan?"

"Because it's not my place!" Ryan cried, backing up a step and falling into a chair. "It's theirs."

He shivered suddenly, a chill passing over him.

Damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

"They're both alive?" Aiden asked, hope filling her voice.

"I don't know," Ryan quietly said. "I…had a feeling that Speedle was alive, but had moved on. The reasons I don't know, but, I think he felt like he had to." He blinked up at them, their gazes softening at seeing the visible anguish in his eyes. "I didn't know about Messer, I swear it. It was only after you called that I suspected that Speedle came here seeking help, but they both had to flee after being attacked at the apartment. That's all."

"Who attacked them?" Flack asked, fists clenched.

Ryan visibly shivered. "I don't know, but I can guess. It's just," He broke off. "We don't say it's name; it acts like an invitation. We don't say it's name. But as for your friends, I don't know where they would go. Or even if they still live."

"They're alive," Mac and Horatio spoke as one, glancing at each other.

"I dreamt as well," Horatio admitted. "But, I don't know what it means. Or why."

"I think I know that," Ryan offered. "You have a connection with Speedle; you care a great deal for him, maybe more then any living human. I think that's why."

Stella grinned at Mac, going for levity. "You care for Danny."

He rolled his eyes in response and would have responded, when they heard a commotion down the hall.

Looking out of the window Mac saw the slender blonde form Horatio's team, Calleigh, his mind supplied, on the floor with a young woman standing over her and helping her up. His eyes narrowed as he watched the girl's body language; it was strained with acting normal, setting off alarm bells in Mac's mind. She looked like she wanted out of there, now, and wasn't liking the attention she had garnered.

Mac ran out of the office, reaching the girl as she looked to be making a break for it, and grabbed hold of her.

"Do you work here?" He asked, pulling her around to face him. She nervously looked at him and then looked past him.

Her body froze.

Mac looked behind, seeing only his team and Horatio's. and then he noticed who the girl's gaze was locked on; Horatio. Movement behind her drew his attention, marine training kicking in, in regards to the approach of a new threat.

It was his turn to freeze, arm slipping down and freeing the girl, who stepped away from them, backing towards the two standing behind her.

Danny.

Admittedly, it was a Danny that looked halfway to death, leaning on a woman Mac didn't recgonize; skin paler then Mac had ever seen it, eyes burning fever bright, and scratches marring his skin, he never looked worse to Mac.

Or better.

"Danny?" He asked, reaching out towards his wayward CSI. He heard his question echoed behind him, voices catching. He then heard Horatio's voice, choked.

"Tim?"

What?

And Wolfe's breathy exclamation. "Tuatha."

What?!

He stepped towards Danny, whose gaze had slid over Mac like he wasn't there, and to the ones standing behind him. Mac nearly recoiled at the sudden flash of rage in the cerulean blue, at the way Danny's lip curled in a quiet snarl. He watched, stunned, as the middle-aged woman standing with Danny struggled to keep a hold on him.

"Milesian!"

Neither team seemed to know what to do, confused and shocked, staring at the strange spectacle. Mac finally recovered himself to try to move forward again, when the girl suddenly turned and cried out, moving speedily towards Danny's position.

"Wraith!

Mac's world flickered as the shadows from his dream manifested, and then everything went dark.

Elsewhere- 

The sudden pain that washed over her sent her stumbling into the airport wall, gasping in agony at the cold flame. It felt like the walls between the worlds had been rent, torn, and the bleed was seeping into everything.

Her kin was in trouble.

Forgetting her bag, Nick relied on all her preternatural skill to seek out her family.

Halfway across the city, grabbing her purchase from the herb shop, Tony stopped and closed her eyes, senses reaching out. When they opened again the merchant stepped back at the look in them, crossing himself.

In this woman's eyes he saw death.

She flicked a hundred at him and left, moving quickly.

She had places to be.

* * *

Disclaimer: not mine, never mine, but I love them so!

Wow oh wow, I hope that brings it all up to date. This one is so fun to write.

Let me know what you' all think!

And if you think that Horatio and Mac jumped the gun, remember, they're investigators! They can smell a lie at twenty-paces.


	13. Chapter 13

Warnings: some swear words, some violence; let me know if I have to up the rating. 

I'm sorry it took so long, I hope that everyone likes the way this one turned, and I'll keep trying to pop them out regularly.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

As the shadows converged Speed had moved quicker then even Danny could follow, a hand reaching around his arm and propelling him forwards violently, before she moved to do battle with the advancing shapes.

"Fuck!" Danny screamed, tattoo blazing, as he twisted around and slammed fire into the wraith that had moved behind him, pushing Fiona to the side. The still smoldering body fell away and Danny turned, to see the look on his friend's faces. This wasn't their Danny, was what he could see, this couldn't be their Danny; only Mac's eyes held a glimpse of knowing him, but Danny wouldn't look deeper, unable to bear the betrayal he knew he'd see. Turning his back on them, he watched the wraiths gather and approach; there was no time left, Danny knew, no time to break the bind safely. Only hope to buy enough time to think up an alternative.

He could the shock and exclamations behind him, fear at what few believed could actually exist.

"Do what you can to keep the others safe," He told Fiona. "I know you know how, and what you can't do, let the druid help." He twisted his head back, toward Ryan, whose hands were clasped together, eyes locked on them.

"You trust him?"

Danny looked up from where he had reached in and broke on of Fiona's bottles, holding a large chunk of glass in his hand. He looked over, and Ryan and Danny's eyes locked. "No. But we need his help."

"What about the bind?" Fiona asked, frantically pulling out supplies, eyes glossy with fear, but filled with strength that Danny respected; he trusted her with his most valuable treasures, and knew she'd keep them safe.

"It can still be broken," Danny murmured, picking up the shard he had broken off.

"I don't," She broke off, eyes widening.

"No! It's too dangerous!" She hissed, gripping her bag tighter. "That's why you didn't just do it yourself, in the first place!"

"Do you have another idea?"

"Let me break it, let me try!" She pleaded.

"It's too late for that Fiona. It wouldn't work anyway." Danny said and walked away, drawing what power he could to himself. "I have no anchor."

He didn't see Mac's eyes slid down, watching the blood drip from Danny's arms, tattoo blistering on the skin; didn't see the awful realization in Mac's face of dream becoming reality, and definitely didn't see the tears Mac quickly blinked away. He didn't see Mac's mouth form his name, or the desperation in his other friends' eyes as he moved away to follow his sister.

And then all he saw before him was death.

Both teams had clustered together, weapons drawn, backs to each other. Darkness pulsed around them, cutting them off from the world they knew, and they felt the crushing weight of it; saw the teeth and eyes and hate that surrounded them, but as they stood together, they drew strength from each other, and were ready. The only ones not bunched together were Mac, Horatio, and Ryan. Mac and Horatio stood within touching distance of the others, but their eyes were locked on the two before them, Fiona had grabbed Ryan and he was helping her set up a perimeter, a circle of intent; his eyes kept flicking to the battle and back, muttering prayers under his breath.

All stood in the eye of the tornado, the negative space created by the wraiths forming an impenetrable shadow, a void that seemed to suck all light and breath away from them. The howls of the wraiths, wolf-shaped beasts, bore down on them as the wraiths struck with deadly intent, only to be thrown away just as violently by Speed.

She was beauty and devastation at once, an avenging angel; pale skin glowing in their shadowed surroundings, eyes burning amber, and filled with the blank desperation of one who has nothing to gain, everything to lose. The clothes that Danny had given her were shredded, but not bloodied, no, it was the wind that tore through them; whenever a wraith made a move towards them, Speed would twist, and the storm would deal with the threat. While the wraiths grew more desperate and angry, movement frenetic, Speed became more detached, looking upon them like vermin, and she dealt with them as such. Air moved as a weapon for her, an invisible blade in her hands, and she wielded it with skill; right and left shadows were rent, their dying screams echoing in the hollow that had surrounded them.

"So this is why their kind is feared." They heard Fiona mutter, as they stood protected in the circle.

"That's Tim?" Alexx asked, voice wavering, her hands clutching Calleighs'. Horatio nodded, his gaze locked on the figure.

"I'm positive of it." He said, feeling Mac shift at his side.

"What's the story with that, with Danny? What are they? And what are these things?!" Flack asked, eyes tensely watching the battle, bringing his weapon to bear on an approaching wraith.

"You seem to know." He focused on Fiona, who was rummaging through her bag again, this time pulling out and mixing a salve.

"I don't know everything, but I can tell you that these things are straight out of your worst nightmares; they're wraiths, captured souls that are basically used as hunting hounds, but these have more form that what I've read." She flinched as one rebounded off the protective circle. "And there's too many here, their shapes too real; there must be someone close by controlling them."

"Why hasn't Messer shifted?" Ryan asked, and all gazes turned to where he was standing, warding off shadows with a flickering light. "He's Sidhe."

"He can't."

"What?!" Ryan gasped, turning to her in shock. The others looked between both of them.

"What does that mean," Stella asked, "'shift'?"

It was Ryan who answered. "It means the shedding of their human form, the shape and body that they wear in this world, and attuning themselves fully to their power; like Tim Speedle was the human shape, and that is the other shape." He pointed to the dark-haired woman.

"Danny's a faerie?" Flack gaped.

"Why can't Danny shift?" Mac asked.

"He's been placed under a bind; it locks him in this form." Fiona started to wring her hands. "It's killing him, he can't unleash the power inside, and it's killing him. That's why we're here; we were gonna break the bind, safely, but..."

"Danny's dying?" Aiden gasped, face paling, and the others didn't look any better.

"Why here?" Mac pressured, knowing this was important. Fiona turned to him.

"He had to be somewhere where he could anchor himself to this life; his house was out, so we came here. He wanted to keep what he had."

Mac caught Horatio's eye, as a thought passed between them.

"That's why Tim had to 'die' in front of you," Ryan said excitedly. "He anchored himself to that life, so he wouldn't forget the reason's he was doing it."

"Not that stupid, are ya, Druid?"

They turned to see that Danny had moved closer, hand gripping a jagged piece of glass in his hand, eyes glittering with dark amusement. Speed stood just behind him, like an honor guard, splattering with dark gore from the wraith's essence. The wraiths had moved back, regrouping, and they all could feel the heavy darkness breathe down upon them.

"You could have told us," Flack's soft words caught Danny's attention and he turned to face his friends.

"And said what, Don? Everything about me is a lie, yet not?" Danny broke off and looked away. "Moot point anyway."

Mac watched the interaction, hands clenching with frustration; he wanted to help, no, needed to help Danny but he didn't know how, and doubted Danny would let him.

Aiden cried out as one wraith impacted with the wall of protection; the air bending beneath it, ozone washing over them, until a burst of motion ripped through it, the black oil-like gore causing the barrier to sizzle.

"Back off, bitch!"

Even at his worst, he was at his best; Danny wasn't moving like Speed, could barely move at all, but was still able to hold his ground. Blood covered him, his clothes were a lost cause, and the tattoo was blistered black; but Danny grinned with a bloody smile, fingers twitching, as he drove his piece of glass deep into the wraith, watching it flop and squeal. Danny looked back at them.

"Well, Druid?"

Ryan cleared his throat, hands once more clasped before him. "I'm not a druid, not really, I don't know what you want me to do."

"It's in ya blood, kid, whether you know to use it or not." Danny scoffed. "Now, our races may not like one another but we respect each other; so, I'm telling ya, protect these people with your life. Do not let one of these nasties get by."

"That sounds final," Hawkes breathed.

"What are you going to do?" Eric asked.

Danny looked over and caught Fiona's eye.

"Speed's not a fighter, not really. She won't be able to hold them off and get everyone out of here. For that, we'll need a bit more power."

"No!" Speed and Fiona gasped, realization flooding their features.

"If you force a shift without breaking the bind, it'll kill you!" Fiona cried.

Danny turned to Speed, who was watching with hooded eyes.

"It won't, you know it won't."

Speed nodded, solemn. "But it will kill the human part; it will kill the soul, the part of you that is Danny Messer. It'll burn away until its ash, and every memory, and thought, goes with it."

"My choice."

"No!" Aiden yelled, fists clenching. "Not your choice! What the hell you talking about; killing yourself?! Fuck that!"

"Do you want to live, Burn?" Danny asked, eyes flashing pain. "'Cause at this point, I can't guarantee that. Even with the druid, even with Fiona's skills, and Speed's abilities; there's no way to stop these guys until the one controlling them is stopped. At this point, we're hoping to kill off the pack leader and drive the others away. To do that we need more power then we got." He turned to Fiona. "Hit me with the juice; I'll do the rest."

Horatio was watching him, and watching Speed's reactions.

"You say that Speed here isn't a fighter, and doesn't have the power, correct? And that you do?"

Danny nodded.

Horatio looked at him, frowning. "To my eyes Speed is very strong. And...dangerous. Capable. You're worse, aren't you?"

Both teams watched Speed shift, looking away, and Danny grimace.

"Yeah. I'm worse." He cleared his throat. "But there should be enough left of me to stop these guys and get you guys back safe."

"But that's not the question though, is it?" Ryan said.

Danny glared.

"Its whether or not you'll be the worse threat."

"It's risk worse taking!" Danny insisted.

"And if I don't believe that?" Mac's question was quiet, eyes probing.

Danny met his gaze, all of their gazes, ending on Mac's. Danny's eyes said, I don't want to do this but I will and you can't stop me.

"It's not your choice."

Danny and Speed exchanged glances.

"Speed can handle it."

And Speed shuddered. "Your faith in my skills is both daunting and frightening. We're screwed."

"Way to look on the bright side," Danny grinned sickly. He looked again at Fiona and started to push, all of them flinching back from the sudden heat. Through gritted teeth Danny hissed, "Hit me."

Fiona brought her hands together and clapped, eyes closed.

An inferno erupted around them.

Through the flame they heard the screams of the dying wraiths, essences burning to nothing, ash and cinder in the air. The air within the circle was cool, and they saw Speed holding the barrier up, worrying her bottom lip; Mac vainly looked out to see Danny but found nothing. The dying noises made them all shudder; Alexx hid her face in Eric's chest.

One howl was louder and they could barely see the giant shape, the pack leader, as in fury it charged them, shape just becoming visible through the waning flames. It's eyes red in rage it leapt, rows of sharp teeth visible, when it fell short and lay dead.

The air cleared around them, darkness lifting and lab becoming visible once more, but all eyes froze on the one before them.

The ginger-haired girl stood, looking down at the dissolving body, arms down at her sides. In one hand she held a blackened heart, rivets of black blood dripping from her fingers. On her bared arm, clothing singed away, was the faint and vanishing lines of what was once a tattoo. When she looked up her eye were a vibrant and frightening blue.

She looked at them. There was no recognition in her eyes.

"Oh fuck," Speed breathed.

And then she moved forward.

"Danny?" Aiden breathed, her voice carrying in the empty halls.

"Not any more." Speed tensed, prepared to defend them if necessary.

Mac stepped forward and met the girl halfway, ignoring the clamor behind him. He knew this, knew what to do; he stepped forward in faith.

The girl titled her head, eyes vague, an amused smile on her face.

I see it all, he thought, all this time. It was pieces, Mac realized, tiny fragments of Danny. He reached out to touch her face.

"I know you," He whispered.

Her eyes glinted darkly.

"I call you back, Danny."

The smile grew; harsh, dark, and condescending.

"Edanna," Mac breathed, aligning both dream and reality.

Her face froze, blanking, as if looking inward and seeking.

"I call you back to me."

Silence.

Then-

"...Mac?"

Her eyes rolled back and she fell.

He caught her.

* * *

Oh please, oh please, let me know if it's good. 


	14. Chapter 14

Stories in series:

_Sons of Man, Daughters of Heaven_

_There is a Price_ (csi lv)

_The Value of Trust_ (ncis)

_The Right Thing_ (csi ny)

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Tony ran, tracking down the cries of her kin, and moving with single-minded determination. She had to find them, to protect them, to save them.

To die with them.

Even as DiNozzo, she was a realist. They had become complacent, relaxed and human; they didn't think or act they way they had before. Tony knew that if they had, she would have killed McGee for seeing what he did. But that was the point, wasn't it, she thought; they didn't react like the others, didn't think that way, and wouldn't do what their race did.

She couldn't kill McGee, or Gibbs, or Abby. Just as she knew that Fionnula and Edana and Errin wouldn't turn on the people that they had met and worked with and knew, and loved in the lives that they had made. Even if it was easier, even if it could save themselves. Like her kin, Tony knew that she wouldn't be able to live with that kind of sacrifice.

She learned that in Baltimore.

Halfway to her goal something intruded in her mind, intuition, and she stopped. She could feel the wrong in the vibrations, so slight that no mortal could hear, but she felt the tremors and knew them. The earth was screaming.

"Errin," She breathed and turned in that direction, consoling herself that at least the others would have each other, and headed for the one that was alone. As elder, they were her responsibility, and she had never taken any task more seriously then that one. They were kin, hers to protect, to save, and if need be, to die with.

It was the last thing that she promised their mother.

As she moved Tony watched as the world around her faded under night's shadow, the darkness thickening, seemingly seeping color and light away. The sounds seemed to change from vibrant and harsh to muted and dim, the weather changing as well, hot and cold colliding above New York. This was wrong, this was unnatural, and Tony had a feeling it would get worse before it got better.

Above her the skies roared and darkened, heralding the oncoming storm.

_They had been the strong, the wise, the beautiful._

_They had been loved as man and worshipped as gods, the benefactors of an ancient race._

_They had fought and claimed their land, a promised land, a land that was rich and green and held wonders of other worlds._

_They had shown mercy in battle, while being feared for their cunning and power._

_And they were now being driven from their home, away from the light and green that was their by right, and into the underground. It was evolution; they had come and cultivated, and in their place more would come and grow and live._

_It was a natural progression of events, as the world moved forward towards a modern age._

_They did not except it._

_The Tuatha fought against the Milesians. They lost their queen in the battle, the mother goddess, and their land. _

_So below they waited, planning, gathering forces, and waiting. _

_They had time, as they were not like man. They had time to wait, time to plot, time to take back what they believed was theirs to own._

_They are not as man. They do not age as man, they do not grow as man; they remain, as they are, for all time._

_They do not forget._

_And they do not forgive._

Following the ache of pain that had flared down the link she had with all her kin, even as it faded, Nick hadn't notice what was happening around her.

Hadn't seen the leaking of dark shapes as they flowed, like water, away from their surroundings to follow her, growing darker as more and more joined them.

In fact, the first that Nick knew she was in trouble was when the streetlights around her went out, each bulb bursting in unison, the glass falling in shard-like rain upon the street. The others on the New York street hesitated, looking unsurely around them, as even the least spiritually minded being could feel the gathering tension, the pulse of darkness that breathed down in fetid breaths. The sudden shadows gathered and lengthened, reaching out to the people, causing them to stumble and shiver as dead hands ran over their bodies.

Cursing herself, Nick backed away, hoping to stay out of reach, which would soon be impossible; it was her they were looking for, she knew, and if they had been able to track and find her this far, it would only be a matter of time. Each step took her out of their range until her back met the side of a building, trapping her against its length, as the tendrils reached out like worms, searching and seeking. Focusing on her the shadows came together, rising up above her like a giant leech; dimly she could hear the screams as others on the street caught sight of the creature.

Fight or flight time, Nicky.

It lunged for her, its eerie cry resounding throughout the area.

On either side of it slabs of concrete rose up, pinning it and then squishing it between them, blackness running down the crevices. Like oil it pooled, but soon started to form another shape. Nick slammed down the concrete on top of it and leapt over the gaping holes that she had torn in the street, backing up while keeping an eye on its location.

Something was wrong here.

This wasn't the Hunt.

Nick nibbled on her bottom lip, watching web-like strands of black try and seep out, looking for purchase, looking for her. It felt like the Hunt, like the seal that held back two worlds from each other was weakening and breaking, allowing the lesser beings-like wraiths and such-to slink through. But this thing before her wasn't even that; it moved like an appendage, a tentacle or antennae, looking and seeking.

And it had found her.

The street was empty now, all humans long since gone, probably at the moment it formed or at least when she had ripped up the ground in defense. She could leave, run, and find the others, but…she was tired of running.

And this was wrong.

"Who are your masters?" She called, demanding that it acknowledge her, gravel rising at her command and holding it captive. "Who commands you?"

"_H..hunt_." The voice was raspy, chocked out unwillingly, and made her throat ache to hear it. Although hushed, it seemed to come from all around, the tones reminiscent of its surroundings. "_We…hunt_."

"That's what you do, but, what are you? Who owns you?" Nick demanded, unconsciously clenching her fist, and the gravel tightened as a result.

"_We hunt_." The black fell to the ground in small drops, glittering black rain, thick and heavy and unnatural. It pooled, circular, and bubbled on the ground, and Nick could swear that a face was forming. "_We hunt you_."

Violently something hit her, acid tearing into her arm, and she hit the ground hard. Her hands moved, trying to get purchase, but she was being held; where her arm burned she saw black claws around it, digging it, the blood that escaped being clotted by the heat of the creature.

Tar, she thought, it's made of tar.

Which made her enemy human.

"_Pretty little thing_," she heard. "_You bleed red. You bleed human. If I cut you, what will you bleed then? Pretty thing, will you bleed for me_?"

It held her down, the pain now spreading all over as it leaned on her; this was worse then anything, Nick thought, worse then being buried, worse then being stalked, and worse then rape. Black was falling on her, around her, taking her into it; absorbing her.

With all her strength she raised her head and looked up, catching sight in a store window, and saw a form, a figure of a man, and looked into him.

"I see you," She gritted, "I see you and know you."

The figure smiled.

And exploded as the flowers from inside the forest shop grow, branches and vines and leaves bursting through the window and ripping into the thing above her, pulling it away from her.

She clutched the limb of a bonsai, now massive, as it formed protection around her body. The black struggled to get away as the flowers and plants begin to absorb its moisture, locking it in and keeping it contained. She was only vaguely aware when the rain started, cool drops on blistering skin, a fresh scent that was rising over the foul and unclean. Red ran down with the clear, her fingers clutching her guardian as she watched her attacker dissolve below, face impassive even through the blood that covered it.

"You've given yourself away. You take on the legends of my race, of the Hunt, of what is feared. But you're nothing." She knew that He was still aware, even as his tool faded, diminished and dying. "I know you now. I will find you and I will kill you, because I can."

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

Nick turned and fell out of the tree, only to be caught and held. With a soft sob, of relief and joy and all emotions, she buried her face in the soft blonde hair of her kin and simply waited, breathing in Tony's natural aura of salt and air and ocean; and then Nick knew that she was safe, that everything would be well.

They were all here, all the family together.

It would be alright.

_Under the cover of darkness they had started to take back their land, hunting down the immigrants and slaughtering them, leaving none alive in their wake._

_Genocide, approved by the fact that it was the way of their race, and these were merely lesser beings. They became the Hunt, and were no better then the savages and monster that they had driven away themselves._

_But they believed that it was their right._

_Not all agreed._

_Some broke away, hiding themselves, and separated themselves from events by leaving the land._

_Some were killed, in the name of treason._

_Four took a stand, unable to watch as children and women and men were massacred by their race; they left clues for the people on how to protect themselves from their race, they helped some escape._

_And war came._

_But not like before, where it was fought for rights; this was a war for existence._

_Banding together with their conquers, the four closed the way, sealed their race from the world and land that was so coveted._

_The most revered of their race became the most hated._

_And they were Hunted._

_And over time, the shadows grew, for not all ways had been blocked. _

Pulling away from the remains of his tool, the man rubbed his fingers together, and brought them to his face, imagining that he could smell her blood on them, could taste it if he licked, and that was good, even if she had escaped.

He reached out and felt the death of his others, the puppies that had been stopped and destroyed by the children, but it was still fine.

One had seen this shape, the form he wore and lived still, but that was alright.

He moved to the window and looked out at the city, his city, and smiled at his reflection in the glass, the faded hollow shape that looked back.

All of them, all four pieces, were here now and would soon be together.

And that was just perfect.

* * *

Okay, maybe I'm superstitious, but chapter 13? Hardest ever! 

Sorry it took so long, but here, I hope that I get it going again with regular updates. Everyone read and review them all; it's what gives me the strength to write more.

I may be doing more one-shots to get back into writing regularly, though I'm not sure if they'll be in the same universe or not.

I also want to put out that if anyone wants to give ideas or help create a Doctor Who/CSI NY crossover, I'm open.

Now, the notes!

The Names: 

Tony is _Troya Den Tieve_

Nick is _Errin Den Tieve_

Danny is _Edana Den Tieve_

Speed is _Fionnula Den Tieve_

I'm pretty sure that _Den_ means 'born of', in Irish. If not, I apologize!


	15. Chapter 15

I apologize in advance, because hey, I don't know what Mac's office looks like.

Warnings: some swearing, other then that, it should be clean.

* * *

**Chapter 14 **

Don Flack assumed he was in shock, which was probably the only reason he was taking this so well.

Well, sort of well.

He wasn't hysterical at any rate.

After the girl-no, Danny-had collapsed, it seemed like there was a strange pop, like a released breath, and time that had seemed frozen when they had been attacked had resumed at normal speed. He thanked god that the labs were basically empty that late, 'because he sure as hell didn't know how to explain the odd group of them hovering around, looking shocky and pale.

It was Stella who had recovered her wits first, lovely Stella, telling Mac to move Danny into his office, while the woman that had been with Danny-Fiona, he remembered-offered to make tea for them all.

For shock.

Which led to the current situation, with both teams-Miami and New York-having grabbed whatever seating they could and making themselves comfy in Mac's sparse office. He and Aiden had claimed the couch, placing Danny on their labs, both of them unwilling to let go now that they had their friend back.

If he, she, was still their friend.

Mac had seemed also unwilling to lose contact with Danny and had followed them, bringing his desk chair over, with Stella perched on it's arm and Hawkes leaning back against both chair and couch, forming a bridge between them.

The other team had crowded around the young looking dark-haired girl who, if Don was to believe, was their dead comrade turned missing person, who had also been a guy, Timothy Speed. He remembered that Danny had called him, her, Speed so Don decided he would as well. Caine had taken hold of the position behind Speed, hovering almost, in a very protective stance and the blonde was holding one hand and the dark-skinned woman was holding the other, clutching her almost painfully. Delko had wrangled a chair over and sat hunched, eyes flicking between Danny and Speed, cautious and uneasy, but relief was what Don read in his dark eyes. Wolfe hovered on the outskirts, gaze firmly latched on Speed.

Fiona moved around the room, distributing tea, and places a cloth on Danny's brow, and Don breathed in deep the scent of fresh rosemary. It seemed almost normal, all of this, save for the sex changes and shadow creatures and the fact that Danny fucking tore out something's heart.

But he was okay with that.

He was filled with a whimsical thought though, of pointing a finger at the coworkers that had given him grief over any reluctance he had shown in dealing with cases that had a supernatural twist; he wanted to scream at them that he had right, there were things to be afraid of in the dark, things that hunted and hated and could kill.

He hadn't expected Danny to be one of them.

Her head rested in his lap, light red strands of hair seeming to glow brightly against the dark cloth of his pants. He vaguely noted the differences between the Danny that he had known and the creature before him. While Danny's skin had been tanned from the sun, a dark and robust shade, this girl's was golden in a strange way, as if glowing from within. For the brief time that he had looked into her eyes, it was only the look in them that struck him as being the same, the only sign that Don knew that the Danny he had know, his best friend, was still in there.

And even that was in question.

From what he understood from before, and what both Fiona and Speed were saying now, is that Danny had been under a kind of curse that kept him in check; yeah, like anything had ever kept Messer in check, Don snorted, but kept his face serious. But when Danny had reverted, to save their lives, he had broken the thing in a bad way and may have wiped out all that made Danny, well, Danny. And yet there was still hope, as Mac had pulled Danny back, that only Mac had enough of a connection with Danny to be able to do that.

Don couldn't help a flare of jealousy at that.

"Who placed that thing on Messer in the first place?" Delko asked, holding his mug but not drinking. Fiona shrugged as she sipped her own.

"I was never told; he may have not known himself."

"It was probably his father, or Sassone." Speed said quietly. "It was meant for him, not her. It was meant to keep him there, and caged, and bound to their will until he was dead or they sent him away. And every time he fought it, he would burn. Look; the tattoo is gone."

The New York stared at her, stiffening at the implications of the basic slavery that had been intended for their friend.

"Then how did Danny get away, then, now, ever?" Stella asked.

"Louie." Speed smiled.

"Who?" Aiden blinked, the name unknown to her, and from the looks on the other's faces, to them as well.

"Louie Messer is Danny's brother. From what I know, they had a falling out when Danny was young and when Louie cast him away, he really cast him away. The bind didn't break; but the leash was weakened, and Danny could leave." Speed's words trailed off. "He only stayed for Louie, anyway."

"Yeesh," Aiden breathed. "If it was Sassone, I'm glad that he's in prison, 'cause seeing how Danny dealt with the shadow-thing? I wouldn't want to be him if Danny seeks him out."

Don saw Mac and Stella exchange a glance.

"Wait." Delko interrupted. "How can they be brothers?" Right. "Isn't Danny not…" Calleigh cleared her throat, but didn't let go of Speed's hand. "Aren't you both not human? Is Louie one of you as well?"

Ryan shifted. "No, I think this Louie is human. The Sidhe have a way of, um, taking over a life." He looked away from Speed's gaze.

"We can take on new lives by taking on the illusion of one that already exists, but from birth, we can integrate with a dead fetus and infuse new life, and be born that way." She turned to the others. "It gives life to something that wouldn't have life; in effect, unless we desire, we become that person. That is who we are."

"But who are you?" Hawkes asked.

Fiona stepped back as Speed rose and approached Danny, placing a hand on her brow. Don shifted back slightly, wary of this fey creature, now that she was up close and personal. Danny he knew, Danny he trusted; he didn't know this one and did not trust her.

"I'm kin to this one." Speed said, fingers brushing through the light hair, her own dark strands mingling with it.

"What does that mean?"

Speed glanced back at Horatio.

"It means that we are closer then blood, closer then family; essentially, we are of the same spirit, merely separate aspects. She is sister, brother, mother, father, family; there is no distinction. That is kin."

"And who are you, your kind, your identity?" Stella pressed.

Speed remained silent, staring at her sister. Fiona spoke up, keeping an eye on her.

"They are known by several names. Sidhe, faerie, elves. Said to be everlasting and beautiful and eternal, having powers of great strength and wisdom of the ages."

"Seems true to me," Alexx teased and Speed shared a grin with her.

"But they are also terrible. They are not human and don't react like a human would; they believe justice absolute and can act without mercy, and they never regret. Notice in all the folk tales that there is a price for crossing them? They have been known to kill whole villages if displeased." Ryan stepped up to look Speed in the eye. "Did you ever look back on what you were leaving behind? Or do you simply look forward. After all, what is a mortal's life time compared to yours?"

Speed stared back and the silence in the room was thick, almost poisoned but what had been said and what wasn't. "But that's not you, is it?" Horatio softly spoke and Speed transferred her gaze to him. "I can still see Tim in your eyes, in your actions; you do regret. You wouldn't have left if you didn't. You left to protect us from this."

She flinched but couldn't look away.

Stella leaned forward, hand gripping Mac's shoulder.

"But what is 'this'?"

"Its force from the Underworld, reaching out from the depths and seeking, looking, always looking. What attacked Danny and I earlier were Wraiths, incorporeal, and what went after us today was a more advanced form of the same. They're growing stronger, getting closer, and increasing their numbers."

"Who are? Who are they?" Mac asked, speaking up for the first time.

"It is the Hunt." Speed said.

"No, it's not."

The new caused all heads to twist towards the door, shock showing on faces that hadn't heard or felt any approach. Two women entered the room, one dark and one light, and Don heard Wolfe hiss, and turned his head to watch the man pale and sway. Horatio looked wary as well, and Don realized that he recognized them or one of them at least, with the way that he was staring at the blonde.

"Well, it kind of is, but not. The seal is still holding." The blonde turned and spoke directly to Speed, who seemed to know what she meant and sagged.

"But," She muttered, "What is it then?"

"Mortal. Or human based at least. See?"

She extended a hand that held a vile that Speed took, wiggling it, then opening the top and sniffing. Horatio stepped close to see as well, as did Mac.

"Tar?"

Both new arrivals nodded, the blonde crossing her arms while Fiona had started to hover over the container.

"You're right. This can't be the Hunt."

The blonde eyed her. "You're a healer, aren't you? One who follows the old ways, the ways of faith and word. You honor us with your presence."

Fiona nodded and blushed. The blonde then turned to Ryan.

"Druid."

He straightened.

"Not ill meant; no harm to you and yours."

She nodded. "Good." Then she smiled. "I'll still need to use you though, at least with this." She shook the container at him.

"Why?" Delko asked.

Ryan answered for them. "Their kind is natural, they usually stay away from synthetic compounds, man-made materials and the like; it's what started the rumors about the affliction to iron. They can't manipulate it, so they avoid it."

"It isn't alive and was never living," The brunet corrected with a glance. "We can't feel it, and can't use it. There has to be a connection to be able to do anything."

"Empathy?" Alexx observed.

The woman nodded, eyes dark.

"It's not always a bad thing."

Speed frowned, and bit her bottom lip. "I chose Miami, or, Miami chose me, because of the ocean, because I could feel them coming if they ever did, and it felt like them. The foreboding was the same."

"Of course it was, we're still being hunted, after all. It's just the perpetrator is not who we'd expect."

"And to New York," Mac said, and all eyes shifted to him. "This is where you all have ended up."

"We were being herded." They all jumped at the rough sounding voice-Danny's, Don realized- as she blinked up at them, making Don wonder if he, she, still needed glasses. "Like sheep, a dog to startle us, driving us all together in one place."

Danny paused.

"That really pisses me off."

She shifted and reached her arms up like a child asking for permission. "Help me up."

Speed grinned at her, relived that Danny seemed to be herself.

"Lazy," She teased but did as her sister asked.

"What?" Danny grouched, sitting up to lean haphazardly against Don and Aiden's bodies. "I rearranged my molecular data and broke through a dark bind and took on some nasty beasts, and you give me attitude? Get outta here."

"You sound like you," Don told her. Danny turned so that their faces were mere inches apart.

"I am me. Just, different packaging."

Don found it in himself to leer.

"Don't even think about it," Danny grumbled but Don felt her body sag more into his. "Pervert."

Don knew that they were going to be all right.

* * *

Review me please! I never knew how addicting it was! Read all my stories and review; I think I need it to live 

gasp

wheez

thud

(author will continue to haunt her computer though, so more will be coming)


	16. Chapter 16

Some shameless self-promotion before we star; I put up some images on my livejournal, the homepage link above should take you there, of the female versions of the Fab Four. Go, see, enjoy!

And let me know if you like!

* * *

**Chapter 15 **

_Earlier_

Nick wondered if it was worth it, being alive.

Nick ached badly.

Even after the Time Which Shall Not Be Spoken Of, which was stupid and will probably result in PTSD for all concerned if no one mentioned it and considered it to be like a group hallucination that no one spoke of. Nick hadn't ached as bad then; and really, being trapped in a small box hadn't helped her back any. Her back just hadn't been the same since Crane pushed her out of the window. That had really hurt, along with the concussion and broken ribs.

Nick was beginning to pick up a trend.

Which did nothing for her at this moment.

She was unsure which was worse, the stinging agony of her skin or the fact that the pressure that had been exerted on her probably caused some fractures. Even the air set off the burns on her skin, but the pain faded as her mind began to spin; she was an investigator, couldn't turn it off, and her synapses began to put things together.

"Come on, we can't stay here." Tony gripped her hand and pulled her away. "Central Park is near and you need to heal. Let's go."

"Wait."

Nick stumbled over to the remains of the thing that attacked her.

"Do you have a container?" She turned to Troya-no, Tony-who reached into her bag and tossed the small glass vial her way. Nick then kneeled and used a piece of cloth to gather some of the leftover substance.

"This is oil-like, but thick. I think," She sniffed it. "Tar. But there are traces of something underneath. Here." She held it out to Tony who took it.

Tony held it up and studied it, face changing from serious to grave. She grabbed Nick again and led her away, expertly keeping to the shadows and avoiding detection, seamlessly moving into the depths of Central Park and blending among the trees.

Nick sighed and the plants sighed with her. Stripping herself of her ruined clothing she lay on the grass, pushing past the chemicals that had been sprayed to keep it healthy, to reach the green. It responded, ticking her with a cleansing sensation; warmth and growth and life in its purest form. Eyes closed she raised her arms and the trees bowed to embrace her. When they finally let her go, Nick wasn't sure how long, she felt at peace. With awe and thanks she inspected her healed flesh, and caught the replacement shirt and jeans Tony tossed her. With one final soft brush of leaf, the trees resumed their posts and Nick joined Tony where she was sitting against a low-rise bench.

"Thanks."

Tony shrugged, leaning back and gazing upwards. "We're kin. We do things for each other." There was something in her tone that made Nick shift, leaving her feeling chastised for some reason.

"What?" Nick asked. "What is it?"

"Why didn't you call? Why didn't you tell me, or Danny, or Speed? 'Cause I don't think you told them either."

Nick sighed and bowed her head. "It's silly, but after, it felt like I deserved it. I deserved to be alone, deserved to be punished-"

"What the fuck!" Tony growled. "Why the hell are you thinking like that? If those humans you work with did this to you, made you think this was, like you deserved, I'll kill them!"

"No!" Nick exclaimed, turning to grab hold of Tony's shoulders. "It was me! It was my fault! I broke the rule!"

"What? I don't understand."

Nick jumped up and pulled at her hair, god how she had missed the long locks, and twisted to face the sky.

"It wasn't supposed to be me; it was meant to be Warrick."

Silence.

"You took his fate?" Tony asked quietly.

Nick nodded, arms wrapped around her quivering body. "I saw it, when Catherine came with the slips, I heard the assignments and saw how it would end. I had to do something!" She screamed. "How rare is it to see the future, to see the fate of another; I heard the Morrigan call and knew that she would come for Warrick."

Tony lunged forward and embraced her sister. "I understand."

Nick shook in her arms, holding back the sobs that she had held back ever since that night. "I had to do something, but, I couldn't just take the dump job, it would have brought suspicion, so I flipped a coin."

"And controlled the outcome," Tony finished softly, whispering into her sister's hair.

"It didn't do any good."

"What do you mean?"

Nick sniffed. "Warrick is still alive, and that's great, but..." She paused. "We're not friends anymore, not really. All he sees when he looks at me now is the fact that it could have been him, if the coined flipped the other way. They all look at me and see me in that box, screaming, panicking, waiting for rescue and then for death."

Tony nudged her. "And you?" She asked softly.

Nick laughed harshly. "All I see is that I am once again the betrayer."

"Okay," Tony drawled. "Now that that is out of the system, it's time to listen to Big Sis." She steered Nick back to the bench. "First, if you weren't given the option of changing your friend's fate, you wouldn't have had a vision. I never told, but, when I was young I was told that when the Milesian's first came to our land, our Mother had been gifted with a vision from the Morrigan. She knew what was to happen if they approached, if they came ashore, and what would become of our race. But, " Tony interrupted Nick, who had opened her mouth to ask a question. "But, she also saw what would happen if she stopped them from coming. And as we're here now, we know what choice was made."

"But why? Did she know about this? Running, being hunted, and the exile? How is this better?" Nick asked, flabbergasted.

"Think about it. Who would have, could have, protected your Warrick, if not you?" Tony smiled as Nick's eyes winded. "Just as Danny protects, and Speed protects, and I protect. Who would be there, throughout time, to protect the human race if not us?"

Nick stilled as the logic finally became clear.

"Thank you, Troya." She whispered.

Tony grinned and gave her sister another hug.

"But don't let it inflate your ego," Nick cautioned.

"I don't have ego," Tony scoffed, and then grew serious. "I'm almost envious of you. At least, you got to see..." She trailed off.

"I would have risked everything to save Kate."

Nick took Tony's hand.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"It's alright. You healed me of the aftereffects of the plague, that's good enough. It was just, Kate's time. I know she's happy."

Nick nodded and moved towards Tony's bag when she stopped.

"Wait," She breathed. "The letter, the SWAK, McGee had it first..." She twisted to stare at Tony.

Tony stared mildly back.

Nick shook herself, grabbing the vial from the bag, but still wondered. She took it Tony.

"Before, you looked like you recognized the extra element."

Tony nodded, looking serious.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I wondered how they were able to control it so easily," Tony mused as she held the vial up. "I mean, tar is a synthetic product and yet it moved like an organic. And he way even the plants were able to diffuse most of its threat..."

"What's in it?" Nick asked, already guessing the answer, feeling sick with it.

"Ash. Human remains."

Nick took a breath. "And the vehemence with which it moved?"

Tony gritted her teeth and as one, the two turned towards Ground Zero, feeling the echoes of pain pulse through their cores.

"That's where they're getting their power," Nick murmured.

"It's a desecration," Tony growled. "And it stops tonight."

"No."

Tony spun. "What?"

"We can't do this without help." Nick raised a hand to stop any arguments. "I know that you're hoping to keep Speed and Danny out of it, or at least the main bits, but whoever this is, is targeting us. Separately, together. The synthetic nearly killed me, but fire would have stopped it cold. The dead can be fueled with rebirth, which I wield through living matter. You have strength, knowledge, and cunning; water can both heal and damage, and you are more devious then I care to know. And if we need to seal it, we'll need the air to catch and trap it. All of us need to stand together."

"And if that's what whoever this is truly wants? All of us, the children of Danu, together in one place?"

Nick grabbed the bag and started walking.

"I tried the dying alone thing. And really? Didn't work for me." She turned back. "If I have to die, I'd rather die with family than die alone."

Tony fought back a grin. "I'd rather not die at all."

Nick answered with one of her own.

"Well," she drawled, "Let's aim for that, shall we?"

Tony fell into step beside her, heading towards the place they knew where their kin would be; the New York crime lab. Chuckling, Tony reached out and tugged Nick closer.

"Come on, Sam; let's gather the fellowship and head for Mount Doom. We have a Dark Lord to stop!"

"Why am I Sam?"

"What? You're the gardener, aren't you?"

The grass rustled as they walked, sharing their laughter.


	17. Chapter 17

Wow, what a big one! I'm really proud of this chapter, and not just because it was the longest I've written so far. I hope the sentiments within haven't offended anyone; they are merely reflections and interpretations; I have only respect for the brave men and women who lost their lives at 9/11, and for any who lost family.

So please, no offence meant.

Please enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 16**

It represented the worst and best nature's of the human heart.

It was meant to be a monument; a remembrance to the sacrifice of men and woman who gave their lives, a monument to the humanity of this great city, and a reminder that there is always a price for greatness. Greatness made New York a target, just as it drew the darker attentions of the one they were looking for. There was a space were the towers had once stood. To them, with their preternatural senses, it sat like a gaping wound; a wound that was still bleeding.

Danny reckoned that she could still hear the screams.

_Tony had been absolute._

"_I want them to stay behind."_

"_It's not me you have to convince."_

_She looked over at the angry countenances of her friends, emotions clearly read as unwilling to stay behind and let her go, when they had just found her again. Hawkes looked unsure, clearly wanting to show support either way but wise enough to know that there were things happening that he wouldn't be able to help with, even though he wanted to stand by Danny's side. She felt ashamed that she had underestimated his quiet dignity, his strength; it was the same with Stella. Stella, who could be exceedingly vocal in her objections but was also aware that they were more likely to be a hindrance then help in a dire situation. She wasn't happy about it, though._

"_Yeah, and it'll be so fun sitting on our thumbs while you go off to certain death."_

"_Really, death is just a possibility, not an absolute."_

"_That's not helping me feel comfortable with this."_

_Aiden just looked torn, clinging to Danny's jacket, wanting to keep the connection between them; Don growled at any who dared approach, standing like an honor guard against the dark, even though he was the more sacred of them both. Danny was filled with love for theses people, her friends that formed a strange and dysfunctional family._

_And then there was Mac._

_She wasn't sure how he brought her back, how he knew to do what he did, or even why. On her very best days Danny couldn't read him, and this wasn't even close to being good; all she knew about him was that she needed him, in a way that matched her need for air, for food, for her own kin. Mac Taylor had burrowed deeply into her core and she wasn't sure when she had accepted this mortal as having such power over her. She would leave it to someone else to tell him exactly what he agreed to when he called her back; and even though it wasn't her choice, she would let no one else but him hold dominion over her soul._

_Mac watched all this; the explanations about what they were going to do, where they were going, and what the ones they were leaving behind-both teams, Ryan, and Fiona-had to do to help. Danny could tell that while Mac wasn't happy, he had been a marine, and recognized a fellow soldier in Tony; he could tell that Danny's older sister would do anything to keep them safe and bring them back whole. And if they weren't going to let them go with the Sidhe, it was the best he could do._

"_Let them go."_

"_Mac!"_

"_What the fuck?!"_

"_...Mac.."_

"_I trust you to do this Danny. We'll be here when you get back."_

_She promised that she would come back._

_Even death would not stop her from keeping this promise._

It had washed the city in shades of gray, ash raining down on the streets below, a horrible kind of snow. Like a stain, the blank color covered surfaces; buildings, streets, landmarks, nothing had been spared the reminder of that dark day and the more it stayed in the people's mind the more power it held over the city. No one had been spared, as even faces carried the same bland look and coloring; eyes that looked and saw memories that, no matter how they tried, none could see past was is to what was. There was no sound of laughter in this area. No sound of joy.

Tony vowed that one day it would return.

Even if she had to see to it herself.

_She watched her kin say goodbye to their families, soft and sad faces, both sides deluding themselves that simply because the threat wasn't what they fear above all, that it would be alright, that it would be easy, that they would make it back safe._

_Tony knew better._

_It was the reason she had forbade the mortals from joining them._

_"Damnit, we can help!"_

_"It's still no. You need to stay where it's safe, a location designed with the intent of protection, and with the Druid's will and Fiona's charms, you all should remain hidden and safe. Their skills will boost the building's natural defenses."_

_Caine had pulled her aside; brazenly grabbing her arm and making them stand, eye to eye. His blue was resolute, willing to listen, but only if she said the right words._

_"You expect us to stay here, cosseted like children, while you four go off to face the big bad wolf?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Why do you think that we would do that?"_

_"Because if we fail, it's on you to stop it."_

_"It's really that bad?"_

_"The one behind this, most likely human then not, is raping the dead for power. He or she knows enough about our history to gather us together in a way that guarantees we'll come, which makes an easy harvest, don't you think? Now, it they're this smart already, how likely do you think it is that they'll be prepared for us in a nasty way?"_

_Horatio is silent._

_"That's why I need you to wait here, with Fiona and Wolfe. Because if we fall, they're all you'll have left."_

_"How will we know that you've succeeded?"_

_"You'll know if we don't."_

_How can she explain that while it is better for them, not to have to face the past their past and the familiar faces it will bear, this is worse for them? Humans think differently then Sidhe, for Sidhe are more akin to animals then they wish to believe, putting survival and territory as motivators; humans can be driven by darker motives, can be more cruel, and less predictable._

_How can she explain that a human menace is truly worse then a mystical one?_

_She would not call Gibbs, nor Abby, or Ziva or McGee or Ducky. Not that she is so positive that you'll all survive, right the wrong and defeat the bad guy in time to hit the closest bar to wax on their triumphant. No, she's not that optimistic._

_Tony just can't bring herself to say goodbye, even if it's not forever, she just can't force the words out; she had never been able to._

_Besides, Gibb's was expecting her to return. _

_And long ago she had swore to never let Gibbs down. _

The air around ground zero was still heavy with dust and ash, and thick with the stench of anger, fear, pain. Like a cloud it cast a pall over the surrounding streets and alleys, somber under it's weight. It hovered over the area in a haze of hopelessness. It was an echo of those who had lived and worked in the towers, their imprints left in every stone and piece of wood. When the wind blew, it blew pieces of history, pieces of their memories and lives and fates; when the wind blew it was a blessing, as it spread the hopes still contained within through out the city in an attempt to heal those who had lost, those who still survive and try to thrive.

Speed leaned down and raised a hand full of ash, blowing on it, spreading the hopes further then they had ever flown before. Spread the message, spread the hope, spread the healing.

Everyone needs some healing.

_They had taken it better then expected. _

"_You vanish again and there will be no place in this world I won't find you I would never stop looking."_

"_Ditto for me, baby. And then I'd tie you down so you'd run away again. Don't think I wouldn't."_

_Her friends sure had away with words, she mused._

_All of them had taken the night's revelations so well that Speed had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. _

_She still was._

_But then, as Danny had been bundled away and she stood in the hall faced with the ones that she had left behind, Speed had been struck by the intense acceptance coming from them. She had looked into them; Calleigh's misting eyes, Alexx's warm ones, Eric's solemn smile and then into Horatio's silent welcome and acceptance. No matter the outcome, no matter the shape Speed wore, they were all in agreement that Speed belonged with them, and Speed felt her heart clench with the simple love of __**family**_

_With them was where she belonged._

_It was shaming, it was humbling._

_It made her complete._

_The only thing she wasn't sure of was this Ryan Wolfe; he was a Milesian and a druid by blood and choice, and though Speed had known that the Milesians had spread out and traveled elsewhere, she had never encountered one in man's world before. _

_She wondered if it was because the worlds that she had left behind, fled, now seemed to be seeping together, blurring the edges where one began and one ended; modern and ancient times coming together, fading lines between what would be fantasy and reality, and she and her kin were stuck riding the precipice._

_Like before, only this time, it was not just their lives they were risking._

_She should feel guilty, for wanting to keep them here, with her, but she couldn't; she had thought that she had lost them, had to give them up, and now that they were with her once again she would not give them up. She would kill any who tried to hurt any under her protection._

_She watched Ryan approach._

"_You're my replacement."_

"_Uh, yeah. You're, technically, dead. I was an officer then I was transferred."_

"_I'm trusting these people, these mortals that I love, into your care while I'm gone Druid. Do not fail them or me. Please."_

"_I will not let you down, my lady... Is it wrong to say that I'm glad I got to meet you?"_

"_Why? We seem to only bring death in our wake, harm innocents; why would you be glad to meet me?"_

"_You're the stuff of legends, of dreams; the tales my Nan told me of your kind were never dark, but stories of your race's kindness and love. And of the protection of the circle, of the land, the mark of four who stood against the darkness in their own kind to do what is right even though it would cost them."_

"_Don't believe in stories; all they are is fiction."_

"_Every story has one grain of truth, no matter the story, whether it be in the words or the emotion within. I am honored to have met and dealt with one of the Goddess's children."_

_She knew that whatever might happen, her family would be left in good hands. _

The very earth had been contaminated; residues of burnt plastic and metal and flesh, poisons that had bled into the ground and sat there, unmoving and unyielding. Refuse from the buildings; refuse from the planes, and refuse from the city surrounded them. Although there had been attempts at cleanup, where they tread, destruction remained. She led her kin over the unstable parts, soothing the ground as groaned in agony, pleading for release. It would be slow going, but in time there would be healing here; new buildings may be built in place of the old, monuments that would cry out that the spirit within would net be broken, not be crushed or tarnished. Or a statue erected, or some other remembrance of what came before, and life would on, as it always did, as it should. There would be growth and renewal.

That was a day that Nick was looking forward to.

_Her cell had wrung, playing a jaunty country tune that had more then one brow raised in amusement. She supposed that it was a sign that she wasn't as alien as they were probably making her out to be; after all, only someone homegrown would have Cash as his ring tone. She knew her kin would tease her about it unmercifully, but that was all right._

_Laughter was better then silence._

"_Hello?"_

"_Who the hell is this?"_

"_Shit, Warrick!"_

"_How do you-Never mind, get Nick for me, alright?"_

_She was getting stares now, her best friend's voice clear from the little phone, curiosity in the staring eyes, and a growing awareness in Caine's. She had forgotten that Caine had met Warrick, that he had also met Catherine, and that all of the Miami team was know recognizing the name and putting things in there proper order; they were investigators, after all._

_What a way to blow her cover._

_And now, she had a choice; say nothing, say everything, or just hang up._

_She was so tempted to just hang up, say it was a wrong number, let Warrick play her slip to a bad connection or exhaustion. Yet she froze and knew that she couldn't do that to him, just as she had broke the rules for his sake. He was her brother._

_And she was tired of the lies._

"_Yeah, it's me."_

"_...I don't understand..."_

"_Warrick, I have little time; but yeah, it's me bro. Any questions, find Lady Heather, ask Hodges. Just, I couldn't not tell you; I've wanted to for a while but...it's like the worse of all secrets. It could destroy you; destroy the whole team if it gets out. Warrick, are you listening?"_

"_...How do I really know it's you?"_

_There was only one way._

"_We've both been interviewed about last spring, related some things and don't speak of others. You've told people about the coin toss, how I lost, how it could have flipped either way. But, you've never told anyone but me, when I was in the hospital, that you watched as I put bubblegum in my ears and then pulled out the gun Gordon had left. How, when I pulled the trigger, when the light went out, that you thought I had done myself. You never told anyone else how sacred you were, how you cried in the locker room, how you cried when I was pulled out of that damn plexi coffin!"_

"_...I believe you."_

"_I have to go."_

"_NO! You can't just drop something like this and just-"_

"_There's no time, but you have given me an idea. We have backup here but we may need more; go to Lady Heather, go to Hodges; tell them all of it, tell them that the seal remains but still the darkness breaths. They'll know what it means. They'll know what to do if we fail."_

"_Fail what? Fuck Nicky, you can't just tell me this and...Who's watching your ass?!"_

_She looks to the kin, to their humans, to the special ones who will make up the Calvary should they die._

"_Keep my city safe, bro. They people here, I trust them to watch my back. Just as I trust you, and Grissom, and Cath, and Sara and Greg. And Hodges. Talk to him; he'll know what to do."_

_She could still hear Warrick's protests._

"_Goodbye, my brother."_

_She flipped the phone shut and held it out to Horatio._

"_Nick Stokes." He said._

"_Nice to meet you." She answered._

_It was almost liberating._

The four stepped past the chain fence and walked the land, heading into the depths of ground zero, following the trail of pain and hate and shadows. The one they sought wore the darkness like it was their own, careless, with arrogance and without shame.

It could be a trap. Most likely was, but there was no alternative, no other choice to make.

In the end there never was.

They moved forward and the shadows before them moved to intercept, but they were without fear.

Each of them had something worth fighting for.

Each of them had someone worth dying for.

They moved without fear.

* * *

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